Knee Deep in Our World
by beezyland
Summary: Piper just wants Gossip Girl to leave her alone. And to get her brother out of trouble with drug dealers. And for Nicky to just make a move on that girl from Brooklyn she's crushing on. And for that gorgeous Amazon with the glasses to stop smiling at her like that...but mostly the Gossip Girl thing. HS Gossip Girl AU Vauseman Nicky/Lorna
1. Knee Deep in Our World

**Disclaimer**: I don't own shit.

* * *

**Knee Deep in Our World**

_An Orange is the New Black Gossip Girl High School AU _

_..._

_Hey Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite. What's making the headlines on my hompage? Our very own Queen P herself, Piper Chapman…_

_..._

Piper Chapman, seventeen and Constance Billard School for Girls' model student, angrily swipes the app away and hits the power button on her iPhone, sighing when the screen goes blank. She squeezes her fingers around the phone that looks to be barely hanging on, dirty and scratched with a piece of gum shoved into the dock connector, orange in the crevices and a phone number scrawled on in Sharpie along with "Gun." Piper's hand starts to shake, resisting the urge to throw the damn device across the room when it buzzes. The screen lights with a new text:

_YOU HAD AN EPIC NYC ADVENTURE LAST NIGHT?! WITHOUT ME?! WTF?!_

That would be Piper's best friend, Polly Harper.

Piper will never forget how Polly jumped for joy when Gossip Girl, the anonymous gossip blogger, crowned "P" the new reigning queen. That was until Polly reached the bottom of the entry that revealed "P" stood for Piper Chapman. As Polly had pointed out (in the heat of the moment or so she says) it makes zero sense because Piper doesn't care about popularity. She mainly keeps to herself and hangs out with a modest crowd rather than the girls who pride themselves on their parents' net worth and the square footage of their Hampton's summerhouses.

The text goes unread as Piper lets the phone fall from her hand. Despite having an hour or two of sleep, she has a perfect attendance record to honor. She's ready to go into her normal routine when she notices a pair of black, square framed glasses buried in a head of dark hair on a pillow to her right. She feels lightheaded all of a sudden and scrambles to remember the previous night's events.

"Oh shit."

…

_24 Hours Earlier _

Piper Chapman, reluctantly reigning queen of Constance Billard and subsequently the Upper East Side, has a specific morning ritual.

Her phone alarm goes off. She checks Gossip Girl. She makes her bed to match the impeccable standard of neatness the rest of her pink and white room is held to, and lays out her uniform. Checks Gossip Girl again. She goes into the bathroom and lets the flat iron heat as she exfoliates. Then—

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Then opens the bathroom door, apparently.

Piper pulls her robe tighter to her body as her younger brother, Cal, races in, looking more paranoid than usual. Her jaw falls open as she stands there and watches as he sidesteps her and rummage through her medicine cabinet.

"Cal, what the hell?"

He pulls out a box of Star Wars Band-Aids that match his Star Wars shirt. Piper didn't even know was stashed behind a row of artisanal skin products, hastily opens it and inside is a wad of cash kept together by a rubber band.

"Cal, what the hell?" Piper says again, more shock than annoyance, carrying the weight of what she's seen. "Has that always been in there?"

"Yep, for safe keeping. I know you'd never use Star Wars Band-Aids and the maids never touch your rooms because they're scared of you."

"What's going on?"

"I'm in deep shit, Pipes. Like _deep_. Like Indiana Jones stuck in that pit of quicksand except it's just stinky, stinky poop and there are too many snakes around."

Piper scrunches her nose at the imagery. "So you're collecting your stash of money and what?"

"Skipping town. Laying low. Going to live in the woods with a wolf pack upstate. If some scary guys come around looking for me, tell them I died or I've joined the Peace Corps. Something believable."

Cal drags her into a hug, presses their cheeks together, only to realize her face is lathered with exfoliating facial cream that sticks to his facial hair. He mutters, "yuck," and quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"Pipes, you have a little something on your—"

"I know," she says quickly. "Why don't you just talk to mom and dad? I'm sure they can get you out of whatever it is you got yourself into this time."

"No, it's my problem. Men take care of their own problems and I'm a man now." Cal stalks back to his room and Piper follows. A duffle is open on his bed and stuffed with wrinkled clothes and a bong that was once a bear-shaped squeeze bottle of honey. "I don't belong here anyway."

Piper stands by helplessly as Cal zips up his bag and throws it over his shoulder. He gives her another one-armed hug, sure to avoid the facial cream this time.

"Love you, sis."

"You're an idiot. I bet you'll be back in time for dinner tonight."

Cal starts for the front door and Piper races to their penthouse terrace to watch him go. All his life Cal has been known as the black sheep of the Chapman Empire. Try as he might he could never measure up to the impossible standards set by his older brother and sister. Piper always liked that he was different, that he broke the WASP mold by purely being himself. She's always considered it one of his greatest qualities.

She leans against the stone banister and watches Cal walk out the front door and towards his terribly ugly car littered with bumper stickers. He doesn't get very far before two bulky men in tracksuits approach him. Her heart speeds up as she watches them engage in conversation. Eventually, Cal tosses his bag into his car before he goes with the two men, gets into a van and drives off. Piper stares long after they're gone, then rushes back to her room and grabs her iPhone that looks as good as new in its pink case. She dials frantically and listens as it rings.

"Hello?" Cal sounds calm, too calm, and he's never that calm. Mellow maybe, but not calm. That's when Piper knows something is really wrong.

"Hey, I saw you leave with those two guys. Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Perfect. I'm not going to be able to make it to school so if you could call the nurse and say I'm sick, pretending to be mom, I'll be eternally grateful."

"Cal..."

"And whatever you do, don't tell mom and dad. Just go on like everything is normal, alright, Piper?"

"Okay."

"Have a good day at—"

The call cuts off. Piper is shaking and terrified, but why? It isn't like those guys were hurting Cal and stuffing him into the trunk. He went quietly and they seemed to know each other. It might be harmless, just Cal skipping school like he does every Monday. She tries to convince herself that everything is fine as she continues to get dressed, but can't shake the gut feeling that something is really wrong.

Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in her head. As she searches her phone contacts, Piper takes deep breaths to try and calm down. She dials with shaky fingers and curses when she's sent straight to voicemail.

"_You've reached Nichols. Suck a clit."_

_BEEP._

…

Piper Chapman and Nicky Nichols are friends.

Their parents run in the same social circle so they've known each other all their lives, bitched about their bitchy mothers while drinking stolen champagne on golf courses and poolside during some rich asshole party at some swanky hotel. Despite bonding over their similar backgrounds, they couldn't be any more different. While Piper is known for her pristine image, extensive list of scholastic accolades and being "Queen P," Nicky "N Nasty" Nichols is known for her wild hair, extensive list of girls she's fucked and being the debate team's two year champion in Original Oratory. Nicky can talk a good game so attempting to persuade her is never an easy task.

In order to do so, Piper ventures into unchartered territory—the girls bathroom near the school's pool—Nicky's "office."

Piper checks her phone as she walks down the Constance Billard halls and finds a slew of text messages from Polly, mostly all-caps rants about whatever Gossip Girl just posted, and her sweet, awkward boyfriend, Larry. Piper seriously has more pressing matters to attend to and gets distracted by the sound of moaning that only grows louder as Piper gets closer to the bathroom. She pauses outside the door, hesitates, then grinds her Versace flats into the ground and pushes into the bathroom.

"Who goes there!" comes Nicky's signature, throaty voice. Too many cigarettes, Piper is sure and has told her before. She's also sure Nicky knows and just doesn't care. All is quiet and Piper finds it unnerving.

"Um, it's Piper," she says timidly.

"Just a sec, Chapman!" Nicky shouts back. The moaning is back in an instant and grows louder and louder as Piper stares at the tile floor and tries not to blush. The sex sounds finally come to a crescendo and a second later, Nicky Nichols is strutting out of the stall, fully clothed, wiping her mouth with the collar of her uniform shirt. "Ay, blondie, cute picture of you on the front page of Gossip Girl this AM."

Nicky waves her iPhone in front of Piper's face and the blonde swipes it, grimacing at the photo of her in her robe with the facial mask still on.

...

_Mrs. Doubtfire isn't the best look for you, P._

_..._

"Damn it!" Piper shouts. "Who even took this picture? That's just cruel."

"You gotta admit you were asking for it." Nicky inspects the photo again with unrivaled amusement. It's yet to get old. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Piper hesitates and glances over to the random girl who's buttoning her oxford and fixing the navy school skirt on her hips. She sends Nicky a flirty look—one Nicky acknowledges with a noncommittal nod—before strutting out of the bathroom and letting the door swing closed after her.

"Sorry to interrupt."

Nicky shrugs, no big deal, really. "Eh, you gotta admire a chick who's ready to go at all times of the day, but there's something about wanting it too much and trying too hard. I dunno. Sometimes challenges are fun. Sometimes I want to have to try to slide into home, not walk the bases."

"Did you just make a baseball reference?" Piper asks teasingly. She always has to take a moment to marvel at how she can be insanely uncomfortable in Nicky's presence one second and transition into the ease of their friendship in the next.

"Softball. Need me to explain that one to you _again_, Chapman?"

Everyone knows Nicky Nichols is quite intimately acquainted with the softball team and various strategies and how to score. And she loves her analogies.

Nicky lifts her foot to the edge of the sink and tugs on the loose strings of her combat boots with the top cuffed down, exposing the inside print that looks to be a pattern of the All Seeing Eye repeated over and over again.

"Nice boots," Piper says. "They aren't dress code."

"Yeah, well, I get sent to the dean's office every day for my hair and I sit in the VIP section of detention air and sit in the VIP section of detention, but my family is the reason they have their newly renovated admin building. What can they do to me?" Nicky thrusts her fingers through her unruly hair and motions to the stall. "So, batter up?"

Piper giggles at Nicky's resilience and shakes her head no.

"I'm actually here about my brother, Cal," Piper explains. "He's in trouble and I'm pretty sure I watched him get kidnapped and I'm 500% sure it's drug related."

"Oh, so you thought to yourself, yeah, good ol' Nicky would know, the one with the drug problem, because everyone this side of the East River knows that fat camp she went to was actually rehab, she probably plays weekly poker games with them thugs."

Piper's lips twitch as she listens to Nicky's apparent self-loathing and touches her friend's shoulder. "I was actually thinking, hey, maybe I'll ask Nicky, my friend, the one whose mom thinks she's at SAT prep courses with me when she's actually stalking some poor girl in Brooklyn that she's apparently crushing on."

"Crushing is so third grade. I'm infatuated, actually." The look on Nicky's face is a clear _touché._ "So you know who Cal buys from? What exactly is he into these days? Gotta start with the basics."

"I don't...oh!" Piper looks around as if afraid someone might overhear. "He was packing this morning and he had a bong," Piper whispers.

Nicky throws her head back with a laugh. "Jesus, you're even more innocent than I thought. Don't worry. Playing a little Scooby-Doo with me will fix that right up. We should talk to Flaca, you know, Yearbook Editor, grammar snob slave driver. Yeah, her boyfriend's got a monopoly on dealing to the St. Jude's douches."

The warning bell sounds just as Nicky pulls out a cigarette. Her shoulders slump and she curses under her breath, biting lightly on the end. Piper plucks the cigarette from her friend's lips and slips it into the breast pocket of Nicky's uniform blouse and gives it a gently pat.

"Quit tryin'a feel me up, Chapman," Nicky teases. "Gossip Girl's gonna start shit."

"Just shut up and let's go before you make me late."

"Nah, that one's all on your Jew Ferby boyfriend!" Nicky grabs her bag from off the ground and throws the strap over her shoulder. "How is Jerry?"

Piper gives her a look as she leads the way out of the bathroom. "You know his name. I know you know his name. You've met him a million times now."

"Yeah, but I'm willing to bet I was pretty wasted and or high as a fucking kite three out of four of those times."

She has a point.

Suddenly, everyone's phones go off simultaneously. The underclassmen continue to scurry along, terrified of being late to class, while the upperclassmen—Piper and Nicky included—continue at a leisure pace and check their phones out in the open. They're hit with yet another update from Gossip Girl.

...

_Did P really think her little trip to Lezzyland would go unnoticed? What do P and N have cooking? There's nothing Gossip Girl loves more than a good mystery. _

_P.S. We always knew you cleaned up well, P. And, N, nice boots._

...

"Twice in one day! Goddamn it!" Piper shouts as she walks down the hallway with Nicky, who's barely listening, checking out all the girls in their short uniform skirts. "Is my life really that interesting? I mean, Daya is hooking up with that new, young teacher guy, but no, Gossip Girl wants to stalk _me_?"

"You do have a way of jamming your foot in your mouth, oh, like right now." Nicky takes a look around the crowded halls and Piper slaps her hand over her mouth, realizing what she said. "And it's fucking hilarious. No wonder Gossip Girl's up your ass twenty-four/seven."

"Piper! There you are!" Polly shuffles over, hugging her binder to her chest. She stops in front of them and looks down her nose at Nicky, who realizes and smirks. "I'd ask where you were all morning, but…"

"Yes, I've seen it too." Piper catches the look of disgust and unease on Polly's face, directed towards Nicky and narrows her eyes, urging her to play nice.

"Hey Hopper," Nicky says.

"It's _Harper_. Polly _Harper_. We've been going to school together since Fieldston. You puked vodka and hash brownies all over me during freaking cotillion."

"Fuck man, I forgot." Nicky presses her hand to her chest with mock apology. "Too bad Gossip Girl doesn't write on you more or, well, ever. Maybe then you'd be more memorable. But, hey, we can't all be _Queen_ P, huh?"

"So! We'll meet up at lunch, right, Nicky?" Piper ushers the conversation along. "You know, to work on the thing. The thing…assignment…thing."

"Sure, blondie." Nicky laughs as she pulls her bulky headphones on over her wild hair and walks ahead of them with a smile. "Fuckin' entertaining."

Polly folds her arms and glares after Nicky, who somehow senses it because she holds up her middle finger as she makes her way through the crowd of teenage girls.

"Those boots are hideous," Polly says. "Maybe Gossip Girl is losing her touch…"

"I like to think Gossip Girl is more impressed with Nicky's fuck-the-world attitude and how she just attracts certain kinds of people…and her family is loaded and her mom's boyfriend is like six years older than us or something, makes for good drama," Piper rambles. Then smiles when she realizes she's rambling. "Good morning, bestie."

"Right. I'm your bestie, not N Nasty Nicky Nichols and don't you forget it!"

As they walk to class, Polly continues to talk her ear off, but Piper's head is somewhere else completely, hoping and praying her brother is okay or at least alive.

…

Flaca Gonzales is one of the smartest girls at Constance Billard and also one of the scariest.

The girl is like a pit bull of determination and when she locks her jaws on what she wants she doesn't let go until she gets it. Flaca is a grammarian and a dictator and a lover of dark makeup, especially around the eyes. Her list of achievements along with how tightly she runs the yearbook committee justifies the scholarship that allows her to attend school for almost no fee.

"Jesus Christ, it's like a sweatshop in here," Nicky says as they walk into the computer lab that doubles as the yearbook classroom. It's a sweatshop where girls sit at computers with Photoshop open and listen to nothing, but English rock or English electronic bands, mostly The Smiths and Depeche Mode.

"What the fuck do you want, Nichols?" Flaca asks without looking up from the photographs spread out in front of her. She already sounds annoyed or maybe she always sounds annoyed. "I already told you we ain't buying what you're selling, puta."

"Don't knock it till you try it, seniorita," Nicky shoots back. "You're the brains behind your boy's operation, huh?"

Flaca looks up at them, her eyes angry slits heavily outlined in equally as sharp black lines. "I don't know what you're talking about. You better shut your fucking mouth before someone hears you wrong."

"Hey." Nicky puts her hands up to show she means no harm. "We're just looking for Chapman's brother and wanna know if your boyfriend was hooking him up."

"Cal doesn't do any of the hard stuff," Piper explains. She takes a quick look around the room and when she doesn't see any faculty, she whispers, "He's just into weed."

"Why would I bother telling you anything?"

"Because I've got a little something that's sure to grease your lips..." Nicky flips her phone over to show Flaca a picture of a blurry black and white photo of a young boy dressed as a cowboy. _The Smiths_ printed in the corner. "Yeah, my friend said it's a super rare lp. All I want is a little info and it's all yours."

"How do I know you're legit?" Flaca asks skeptically.

"I'm Nicky Nichols, everyone's best friend and life coach. I float between the cliques. You think I built such a glowing reputation on lies and backstabbing?"

"Licking pussy would be my guess," says a disgruntled girl at the next computer over. Piper and Flaca look between the girl and Nicky with knowing stares and all she can do is shrug and grin in return.

"Could we maybe go somewhere else to talk?"

Flaca directs the room to keep working while she steps away and leads Piper and Nicky over to the far end of the lab, through a door and into what was once a dark room and is now a utility closet in the modern age.

"Okay," Flaca says, shutting the door behind them. "You didn't hear it from me...and if you tell anyone—Gossip Girl especially—I will know it's you two and murder you both." Flaca narrows her eyes at Piper. "I already know you got a big mouth, blanca. Daya does her work-study in the cafeteria. I'd start packing lunch from home if I were you."

"Chapman's gonna keep her mouth shut. Hell, I'll vouch for her." Nicky waves at Piper dismissively and the "Queen P" draws her fingers across her lips as if zipping a zipper. "You were saying?"

"My man, Ian, he's done with the pot game, moved on to bigger and better, crowned King of Molly now. Unless you brother is into only the purest MDMA and psychedelic amphetamine then you're snorting the wrong line."

Nicky growls in frustration and scratches her fingers through her hair. "Well, you think you could chop up a sweet little half gram into a nice, thick line for us to chase then?"

Flaca leans back against the door and thinks for a moment, then snaps her fingers. "Poussey, the transfer student from Germany or whatever, let's say the yearbook committee has a special arrangement with her if you know what I mean."

"She supplies you and your girls."

Flaca smiles proudly. "In bulk."

"Shit, do you bitches have membership cards too?" Nicky asks. "Class credit for smoking pot and listening to The Smiths, now there's a life hack if I ever heard one."

"So there's a chance she was selling to my brother?" Piper asks hopefully.

"I know everyone, well, except maybe your goody-two-shoes crowd, buys from Poussey and even a lot of the Jude's boys so there's your line. When do I get my vinyl?"

"You going to Crazy Lou's tonight?" Nicky asks.

Flaca presses her lips together, considering. "Who's playing?"

"Sideboob plays every goddamn time Caputo can get 'em in the lineup. Probably that punk-infused pro-Israel fuck-Europe politicized version of Hanson. The Great Scots—"

"The fucking bagpipe band where they were gimmicky kilts and shit on stage? Fuck that." Flaca hisses with disgust. "What is it Open Multi-Cultural Mic Night? Fuck all of that noise. How do you queercore kids even deal with that?"

"Lots and lots of alcohol."

Flaca shakes her head like it's sacrilegious to entertain shitty music. "Just give me the vinyl tomorrow."

"Deal."

When they walk out of the closet, Nicky is sure to announce to the room that, yes, a lesbian, a goth girl and the Park Avenue Princess walked into a closet and "threesome" is the only plausible explanation, sure to add that they should all tip off Gossip Girl, maybe suggest a Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe pun. Flaca shoots her a deadly glare and when she glances around the room they all lower their heads. None of them are going to talk, part of the reason Nicky even said anything.

"You hang out with Flaca outside of school?" Piper asks once they're out in the hall.

"We frequent the same joints from time to time, but don't ever acknowledge it outside of, you know, just now," Nicky explains casually. "This is just a taste of my world. You ready to see how deep this hole goes, Alice?"

Piper feels her phone buzz and sees it's another text from Polly, one that she ignores without another thought.

"Lead the way, Rabbit."

…

When Poussey Washington arrived on the scene in the middle of the previous school year, Constance Billard flipped out. She's this cool, openly lesbian self-proclaimed "military brathole" who speaks fluent German and has excess swag that lights up every room she enters. Her fun-loving laidback demeanor makes her easy to be around and makes you want to be around her. It's no mystery why she's friends with everyone and has connections to the best weed in the city.

"Yo Poussey!" Nicky shouts, just to get shushed by the librarian. "Sorry," Nicky whispers. "It's the Tourette's. My mom's probably Googling experimental surgery as we speak."

Piper shakes her head, grabs Nicky by the tail of her untucked uniform shirt and drags her away from the front desk where the librarian is glaring daggers at them. They weave through aisles of books before finding Poussey leaning coolly against a bookshelf and silently laughing.

"Yo, I've met a lot of crazy white bitches and you, Nicky Nichols, you're top three." Poussey holds up three fingers just for emphasis. Nicky looks pretty damn proud. "I got your text. W'sup?"

"Poussey, have you met my friend, Piper?" Nicky asks. "She's a declared non-lesbian so try not to fall in love with her." Poussey rolls her eyes and Nicky smirks, such a fan of saying shit just to elicit a reaction. Try as she might, Piper will never understand where Nicky's particular brand of confidence comes from. "Chapman, Poussey's in the same boat as me. S.S. I Wanna Sex Up My Straight Best Friend."

"Fuck you, Nichols," Poussey whisper-shouts. "Am I really wasting my lunch period on this, man?"

"Hi," Piper says sweetly. "My advice would be to ignore Nicky always and I was just wondering if you could maybe tell me if you ever sold weed to a Cal Chapman. I have a picture of him if you need…" Piper pulls out her phone and swipes her finger through her photos. "I would really appreciate your cooperation…"

Poussey looks to Nicky. "Is this white girl f'real?"

"Hashtag-white-girl-problems," Nicky replies.

"Here's a good one!" Piper's so full of anxiety and shoves her phone into Poussey's face with more force than intended. So much so that Poussey has to step back to look at the picture.

"Nope. I've seen the guy around, but we ain't in business."

"Damnit!" Nicky shouts. And gets shushed by the same librarian who's shelves away. "Who picked this fucking meeting place? I swear."

Piper slumps back against a shelf and frowns. "And we're back to square one."

Poussey laughs. "So you're trying to find a specific dealer? Why don't you just ask Vause? Nichols, you two are tight, right? She's upper management, yo. If anyone can find one dealer doing business in any of the boroughs it's her."

"That's fucking brilliant," Nicky says, her mouth dropping open with her smile. She pulls out her phone and opens a new text. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"See, man, more proof you need to cool it on the whippits, Nichols," Poussey teases. "Seriously, that shit will fuck you up."

"Well, it was lovely chatting, Washington." Nicky is sure to playfully shoulder past Poussey as she walks by. From over her shoulder, Nicky adds, "I've got Pre-Cal with Taystee next period. I'll be sure to put in a discreet gay word for you."

Piper is certain she's never seen Nicky run as fast as she does when Poussey pulls a random book off the nearest shelf and hurls it in her direction.

…

It's the last class of the day when Piper's phone buzzes with a text from Nicky:

_My friend Alex can help us out. Meet tonight in front of ur building. 8ish. Wear something sexy… n that u don't mind sweating in or getting blood on. ;)_

Then a second text comes seconds later:

_NO MASSED PRODUCTED HOT TOPIC SHIT. DON'T EMBARRASS ME CHAPMAN!_

Piper sinks low into her chair and thumbs out a text beneath the desk, asking Polly to cover for her for the night. Whatever the teacher is talking about is completely lost on her. Her open notebook is completely blank and even if she tried to take notes, Piper's sure she'd just end up writing _what the fuck did I get myself into_? Over and over and over again.

…

Crazy Lou's is like nothing Piper has been immersed in before.

At the far front of the club is a stage with a barricade at the foot, separating the performers from the punk crowd, varying combinations of leather, chains, tattoos and piercing. They're all amped up and moving in waves to the music, beneath the colored lights that race around the room. Despite being in deep violation of the city's health code regulations and filled with sketchy people, it isn't bad. However, the band playing is terrible. There's even a guy playing a bagpipe and wearing a kilt on stage. Weird.

Piper tries to keep up with Nicky, who might have actually tried to do something with her hair that's still wild with insane volume, and who might also be looking crazy hot in her little black dress, leather jacket and those GG-approved boots, whose face might have lit up when she spotted a certain someone across the room. Piper tries to stick by Nicky as she stands and stares, silently trying to psych herself up, just to throw her hands up and opt to go out front for a cigarette. Piper shakes her head at the idea of secondhand smoke and Nicky says she'll find her when Alex arrives.

Before she can make it to the area of tables near the bar, Piper gets bumped from behind and her phone goes flying, slides across the disgusting beer drenched floor and right into the mosh pit. Piper has never been to a club like this before, but she's certain diving into a crowd of jumping, dancing, thrashing youths isn't the smartest idea. But it's her phone, her lifeline. She got grounded from her phone for a week once and it had been pure torture.

Piper balls her fists and bends her knees, ready to push her way through all the sweaty bodies when a gorgeous Amazon of a girl with jet-black hair and milky skin emerges from the mosh. All she's wearing is a simple white v-neck, dark skin-tight jeans, a flannel shirt tied around her waist and black and white Chucks. Piper is mesmerized for a moment, wondering how one makes simplicity so sexy, and then she notices how Amazon is holding a familiar pink-case clad iPhone that's glowing orange.

"My phone!"

"Yours?" the girl shouts back. "It got a little trampled and someone broke open an orange glow stick! It's everywhere!"

"I'm just glad I got it back!" Piper takes her phone and is horrified to see a long scratch across the screen and realizes the case is drenched in strange liquid and cracked. "Uh, thanks!"

"No problem! I'm Alex, by the way!"

"Nicky's friend? I'm Piper! I'm the one who needs your help!"

"Awesome!"

Alex motions to the back of the club, where it's quieter and Piper goes to snag an empty table. Alex stops over at the bar first and exchanges words with the bartender, a tough-looking woman with the sides of her head shaved. When Alex joins Piper at the table, she sets down a bottle of champagne and a handful of glasses. She takes the seat next to Piper, pushes her black square-frame glasses up the bridge of her nose and gives her the cutest smile. Everyone she's met in Nicky's world so far has been intimidating, but there's something about Alex that's quietly inviting.

"This band is a piece of shit!" Alex shouts. "What is with that fucking bagpipe? I told Nicky we should meet at Camera Obscura—I hear Sophia's been killing it lately—but, no, stupid Christopher's shit band is playing so of course Lorna's going to be here and, you know, Nicky—"

"Is obsessed with her," Piper says. "Oh, sorry, _infatuated_. So the infamous straight girl crush's name is Lorna? Nicky never tells me actual things about her, just makes softball analogies with that lovesick look on her face."

"Yup, sounds like Nichols." Alex pours the champagne onto her hand to wash away the glow stick liquid, letting _champagne_ dribble onto the ground. The wasteful impact of what she's doing doesn't even seem to touch her. "I was the one who had to break it to Nicky that Lorna's straight as a ruler. She has an Edward Cullen cardboard cutout and a Christopher's #1 fan shirt she wears under her clothes because Lorna weights like ninety-eight pounds and Christopher's girlfriend, Angela, is on the wrestling team."

"So girl chases girl chases boy who's committed to girl?" Piper pieces it all together.

"Welcome to our world, kid." Alex reaches for Piper's phone and starts cleaning it with the sleeve of her flannel. "I keep telling Nicky, rule #1 is you don't fall for a straight girl, but does Nicky Nichols ever listen?" The dark-haired girl shakes her head and laughs, sliding the phone back to Piper and adjusting the expensive watch on her wrist. "Ten o'clock on the dot. I never keep a pretty girl waiting."

Piper flushes. "Uh, I thought we were suppose to meet at nine?"

"Really? Nicky said ten was okay. Nine is when Christopher's shitty band's set started and I didn't want to be here for that. Wait, so they've been on stage for an hour now? That's ridiculous! I need to get Boo to talk to Chang about this…"

Piper decides that she is going to kill Nicky Nichols. She picks at her plastic case and a whole pink piece cracks off. Piper sighs, also deciding to remove the whole damn thing and online shopping for a new case later.

"Which one's Lorna?" Piper stands halfway out of her seat and squints her eyes at the small mosh at the foot of the stage, searching for that head of waves and curls that's probably orbiting her most recent crush. "I'd like to see the reason I've been here, mostly alone, for the last hour."

"Well, you're not alone now."

Alex smiles and there's something so damn charming about the girl and her intense gaze that makes Piper feel her face start to burn up. She instinctively stares down at her hands in her lap as Alex starts to fill the glass flutes with champagne.

"So you're looking for your brother?"

Alex pushes a glass of champagne towards her and Piper takes it just to hesitate, clean the rim of the glass with the edge of her sweater, and ultimately decide she'd better not drink. Alex laughs with amusement, not judgment, and listens as Piper explains the day she's had and describes her search for her brother.

Her iPhone in hand, Alex hits send on a text and drains the rest of her champagne flute in a gulp. "Alright. I texted my guys to see what they know about your brother."

"I hope he's okay…" Piper bites on the inside of her cheek as her legs fidget. She has no idea how she got through the day without having a mental breakdown. It's probably in part thanks to Nicky's presence and humor, but Piper isn't about to tell Nicky that.

"Hey," Alex says smoothly. She lays her hand on Piper's leg and all of a sudden the fidgeting stops. Piper slowly looks up and finds Alex looking right at her. "I'm sure your brother's fine."

There's absolutely no way for Alex to know that, but something about the way she says it or maybe the look in her inviting eyes puts Piper at ease. Alex smiles, evidentially knowing the effect she has on Piper and it kind of feels like they're having a moment. At the realization, Piper starts to fidget again, even more so than before, and she has never been happier to see Nicky stumbling over. She reeks of cigarette smoke and has the biggest smile on her face as she squeezes herself between Alex and Piper, throwing an arm around each of them.

"Hey!" Nicky shouts. "Alex, I see you've met my Constance Billard schoolgirl friend, Piper. Piper, I see you've met my high school dropout lesbian friend, Alex."

"Beautiful introduction," Alex says sarcastically. "You have such a way with words." Her slight frown quickly turns into a patronizing smile. "Hey Piper, has Nicky told you about how she likes to follow Lorna into the bathroom? Yeah, Nicky has this thing for standing around in there and waiting for Lorna to ask how she looks just so Nichols can tell her she looks hot. _Every fucking time_, I swear."

"Don't hate the long-term game," Nicky sneers. "At least I don't lie to girls to get them to put out." Piper dramatically turns to give Alex a questioning look while Nicky laughs out loud. "Shit, I'm too late, aren't I? How did you two even find each other? Fate?"

How did they find each other? Out of all the people in this venue that's obviously exceeding its safety code regulated max capacity, Alex was the Good Samaritan that picked up her phone and managed to find her to give it back. Is there any other word for that?

Before either of them can respond, Piper sees Alex grin and wave. She follows Alex's gaze and finds the object of Nicky Nichol's affection. Lorna Morello isn't like any of the girls Piper is used to seeing Nicky hang around. She's adorable and girly with loose curls in her dark hair and her lips perfectly outlined in bright red. She's more Summer Roberts than Ashley Davies that's for sure. Piper is now starting to see what Nicky meant by a challenge.

"Hey Vause!" Lorna yells in a thick, Brooklyn accent. "It's been so long since you came around Lou's, a few of the other girls were starting to talk about how you think you're too cool for us or something."

"Me? Too cool for you, Lorna? Never," Alex says. "Now, Nichols, on the other hand..."

"Shut it," Nicky snaps. "Jeez, that's the thanks I get for bringing you this pretty blonde package?" Nicky waves a hand in Piper's direction. "This friendship is starting to feel a little one-sided, Vause."

"I knew you looked familiar when I saw you first walk in!" Lorna gasps and points a finger right at Piper. "You! You're all over Gossip Girl all the time!"

Piper nods, finally ready to accept this other fact of fate. "Yup, that's me."

Lorna shoots Nicky a sly look. "Just when I was beginning to think I was your only straight friend, Nichols."

"Straight?" Alex asks, raising both of her brows. Piper looks back at her with a similar question in her eyes, but doesn't voice it.

"Yeah, she's dating this Jewish kid," Lorna jumps in. "Gossip Girl doesn't think he's worth her time, refuses to call him by name, just refers to him as Pie Fucker. Apparently there was an incident."

Nicky rocks back in her chair with laughter. "Poor Jerry's never gonna live down the Waldorf Thanksgiving Incident! Fucking classic."

"I'm Morello, by the way." She gives Piper a sweet, friendly smile. "Lorna Morello, but that's such a grandma name, y'know? I just go by Morello."

"Piper Chapman, but I bet you got that." Piper gives a resigning nod. "So does everyone outside the Upper East Side look at Gossip Girl and make fun of us?"

"Because they don't got anything better to do than check Gossip Girl every thirty seconds," Nicky says sarcastically. "Chapman's got a little center of the universe complex going on. WASP upbringing and brainwash. We're working on it."

"Well," Morello says. "My girl friends and I love Gossip Girl in the way that America loves reality TV. I wouldn't call it an obsession or anything like that, but it's a fun way to kill time in Study Hall. Honestly, it's kinda surreal I'm sittin' here with P and N."

"You sayin' you use Gossip Girl to keep tabs on me, kid?" Nicky smirks wickedly and Morello meets her eyes, chin tilted down and an eyebrow raised. If the Brooklyn native is at all aware of Nicky's crush on her she isn't doing anything to discourage her either.

Before Morello can respond, Alex raises her hand as if in a classroom. "Question: What the hell is Gossip Girl?"

The other three turn to look at her with disbelief. A few seconds of silence pass in a deeply dramatic moment. Alex shrugs innocently in return.

"Gossip Girl is the bane of my existence," Piper says. She's aware of how ridiculously dramatic she sounds, but at this point she really doesn't care.

"It's a website, a blog, and I think they just got a Twitter," Nicky explains. "Anyways, it's where sad, pathetic, bored Upper East Side kids send in gossip, 'tips' and pics of other Upper East Side kids doing 'scandalous' shit. Then the ever eloquent, anonymous Gossip Girl posts about it. It's like the Insiderism Bible and Gossip Girl is a god who's got a real hard-on for posting Piper's misery for the cyber world to see."

"Don't remind me." Piper groans.

"Hey, I saw the post of you this morning," Morello says. "The one with the gunk all on your face. I thought your robe was cute. You totally worked it. C'mon, no one looks good in the morning. Luckily, majority of us don't have Gossip Girl to report on it."

"Thank you, Morello." Piper finds herself smiling. After the day she's had, she almost forgot what it was like to smile. "I see why Nicky's always talking so highly of you."

"Yeah?" Morello playfully narrows her eyes. "You talking about me to your rich kid friends, Nichols?"

Nicky shrugs and takes a long pull from the champagne flute that's been sitting untouched in front of Piper. All of their phones go off (except Alex) and they quickly check it. Gossip Girl. Alex leans over Piper's shoulder to check out this Gossip Girl firsthand and Piper is hyper aware of their close proximity.

...

_Where or where have our favorite Upper East Siders gone? Oh where oh where could P and N be? Lower East Side maybe? N is no stranger, but we expected better of our Queen P. Why so slumming? _

_Meanwhile, how hot is too hot for teacher? Looks like D would know._

_..._

"Shit!" Piper cries out, slamming her phone against the table. And there's another dent. "Shit! Shit! Shit! I might have been the accidental tip on this one... Shit!"

"You're a terrible person, Chapman," Nicky says. Her eyes remain on her smartphone, as she likes Gossip Girl's post with the tap of her thumb. "I fucking love it."

Alex chuckles. "God, I don't miss high school at all."

"Ooo! There's Christopher!" Morello shouts, resting her hand on Nicky's shoulder as she rises up onto the tips of her toes to try to look over the crowd. "I gotta tell him how good they were tonight... It was nice meeting you, Chapman. I almost feel sorry for leaving you alone with these two. Hey, are you guys doing anything later? Text me if you do, Nichols."

"Aye, kid! Tell Christuhfuh nice skirt!" Nicky shouts after her. "I had one just like it in the third grade!"

"Don't tell him that!" Alex butts in. "Tell him his band _sucks_ and to give up the bagpipe or give up music entirely!"

Morello flips them both off and with a smile on her lips. They watch as she rushes over to the bar where Christopher jumps with shock when she touches his arm and starts talking at him. Nicky watches and sinks low in her chair, shaking her head from side to side. Alex frowns and rubs her hand over Nicky's shoulder.

"Don't get me wrong, you pining is entertaining as hell, but also a serious waste of your time." Alex shakes Nicky by the shoulders as if that's all it takes to do away with a crush. "_If you're lucky_ you'll catch her in an experimental phase and that shit never ends well. Then you'll push each other away and that would suck for all of us. Do yourself a favor, be her friend and move on."

"Don't you think I'm tryin'? My office is a revolving door. Pipe can vouch for that, huh, Pipe?"

Nicky wiggles her eyebrows at Piper, who looks away and would rather not remember what happened this morning. Wow, that was just this morning? It feels like it's been Thursday forever and, yes, Piper is going to ignore the way Alex is looking at her too.

"I've been fucking bitches and sluts left and right, but they aren't Lorna," Nicky continues. "We live in such a bullshit toxic world where everyone's a liar, playing head games and whatever, but Lorna means every single thing she says. I like that. I like _her_. If I could stop I would, but I can't." Nicky looks over to the bar and scoffs at how Morello is chatting Christopher's ear off and the guy refuses to appreciate what's right in front of him. "So, Chapman, what do you think my chances are with that?"

"Just so you know, anything above .99% gives her false hope," Alex points out.

"For your information, Taystee gave me a 43.03% chance and she's a math prodigy," Nicky says snottily. "So shut the fuck up, Vause."

"I'd say 54%," Piper responds. "Because I see the way you look at her and I also see how she definitely looks back."

Nicky straightens in her seat and smiles brightly. "You deserve a shot on me."

Piper tries to tell Nicky she doesn't want to drink when Alex's phone buzzes against the table. She checks it and the look on her face is pure _oh shit_. Alex tentatively shows it to the other two and on the screen is a picture of Cal, both of his eyes swollen shut and blood dried on his fat lips. Piper gasps and feels a little lightheaded as all her worst fears about today are confirmed.

"Luckily, you called me," Alex says as she types out a new text message. "They won't touch him again. I can promise you that. They just want the money he owes them. Three grand."

"Jesus, Baby Chapman got himself into some shit," Nicky mutters. "You're Park Ave. prime time rich kids. Why hasn't he been paying his dealer?"

"I—I don't know," Piper answers, throwing her hands about as she talks. "Well, my parents did freeze his account a while back because of his grades… Oh my God…"

"Don't worry, everything's going to be fine," Alex says soothingly. "I can loan you a grand. What's your daily ATM limit?"

"I don't know," Piper says. "I've never had to withdraw the daily limit!"

Alex turns to Nicky, very calm and collected, deadly serious. "Ask Red."

"Fuck that. I'll withdraw what I can too." Nicky takes a long swig straight from the champagne bottle and pushes her seat back as she stands. "I'm gonna see if Luschek is drunk enough to let me borrow his car."

As Nicky shoves her way through the crowd, Piper sits quietly, trying not to fall apart in public. She feels Alex's hand on her leg again and this time Piper doesn't freak out or push her away. Right now she needs all the comfort and strength she can get.

…

Of course Alex Vause with her cool, chill appearance and venomous hate for bad, amateur bagpipe-infused rock music, works at a low-key record store with a cardboard cutout of Lee Burley with a dick drawn on his face in the window display.

The night is in full swing on the Lower East Side where the streets have names and not just numbers. Hipsters roam the streets in little packs, carrying on their debates on the human condition between drags of their shared cigarettes and whirls of smoke. Nicky parks Luschek's piece of trash Honda Civic right in front of a group of said hipsters loitering across the street from the closed record store.

"Alex, you can't rob your work!" Piper nearly stomps her foot. "You're going to get arrested!"

"Easy, Jiminy Cricket, the money's in my locker."

"You keep a thousand dollars in your locker at work?"

"Vause has this thing against banks, keeps her cash in air vents and shit," Nicky explains. "Oh! Alex, don't forget the record for the goth girl I texted you about. Piper and I are gonna hit up the ATM."

Alex nods and heads around to the back of the record store as Nicky and Piper walk down the street until they come across an ATM machine and withdraw what they can.

"Alright. We've got Vause's g, your 750, my 750, and we're still short."

Piper fidgets on a street square and looks down the row of mostly closed shops. When her eyes land on the illuminated open sign in a pawnshop window, she walks determinedly toward it with Nicky trailing her. The bell above the door jingles as they enter, alerting the middle-aged African American man behind the counter. He leers at Piper the moment she steps inside.

"Rapey eyes." Nicky coughs into her leather sleeve. "We're only seventeen, motherfucker." She coughs again for good measure.

"Hi," Piper says pleasantly. "I was wondering how much you think this would be worth." Piper slides a little gold ring off her finger and hands it over for the man to inspect.

"Hmm, fifty and that's me being generous."

"Fifty!" Piper shouts, outraged. "This is a family heirloom! Grandmother left this for me specifically in her will! Check again, will you? Please?"

"How much money are you looking for, girlie?" the man asks.

The bell above the door jingles again as Alex walks into the shop with a faded knapsack thrown over her shoulder. She slides right up next to Piper, moves her arm around her and kisses her cheek. Piper freezes, shocked by Alex's actions and even more shocked at how okay she is with Alex's actions.

"Hey, babe," Alex says sweetly. Then she nods to the man. "Hey Gun, you aren't scamming my girl, are you?"

He nods back. "Damn, this yours, Vause? Nah, I respect. But I don't care if the Queen of England is her granny. This shit ain't worth more than fifty. Maybe fifty-five because I think you got a cute little ass."

"Forget it, Chapman," Nicky says. "We'll find another way."

"Deal." Piper sends the little ring one last longingly glance before training her mind on how this is a small sacrifice for her little brother's freedom and safety.

"Hey." Gun grins. "I'll throw in another ten if you show me your cute little ass."

…

Piper shoves past the pawnshop door and walks out into the night, rubbing at her phone that now has a phone number scrawled across it. The Sharpie starts to fade, but despite her best efforts it doesn't disappear completely. Alex is on her heels while Nicky walks a little slower, counting out the measly fifty-five dollars.

"Can you believe that guy?" Piper sneers. "He continues to hit on me even after the fact! He knew I was seventeen and thought I had a girlfriend and still! Ugh!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Alex says sheepishly. She looks uncharacteristically coy and it's pretty cute, like a giant acting like a puppy. "I just saw the way he was looking at you and I know Gun and how he can be—"

"No, it's fine," Piper says shyly. She looks up at Alex through her lashes for a moment and sees the grin on the Amazon's lips as she returns to the Alex she's come to expect, so smug, yet still so alluring.

"Hey, not-lesbians, if you're done pussyfooting around, we gotta head to Queens," Nicky says. A knowing smirk plays at her lips and Piper curses herself for forgetting how observant her friend can be.

"Why Queens?" Piper asks.

"We've got no other choice, but to _beg _Red."

…

Before tonight, Piper has never realized how she's sort of lived in a safe little bubble called the Upper East Side for most of her life. It had always had everything she ever needed so she hardly ventured outside unless it was to the Hamptons or trips to Paris in the summer. She has never really explored Manhattan in its entirety so forget about the other boroughs.

Nicky leads them down an alleyway that runs alongside Dmitri's, a Russian restaurant and bakery. She pushes her way into the kitchen like she's done it a million times. Piper watches through the screen door as a group of older women sit play cards at a small table. Nicky approaches an intimidating woman with big Heat Miser hair and greets her as if they're family. Piper's about to walk inside when Alex catches her arm and draws her back.

"We should probably wait out here."

"Who is Red to Nicky?" Piper asks.

"Her boss and surrogate mother of sorts. Nicky literally calls Red _mom_."

Piper sputters with surprised laughter. "Nicky Nichols has a job?"

"More like Nicky got really fucked up one night, crashed a motorcycle that wasn't even hers right through the front door and has been working to pay off the damages ever since. Red's good for her. Nicky used to be into some pretty hardcore stuff and Red cleaned her up…mostly. Lorna works here too. That's how they met. They're _Red's girls_."

"And you?"

"I'm not allowed inside anymore," Alex confesses. "This one time I tagged along when Nicky came to pick up her paycheck, ended up getting high with Red's sons and I ate like _everything_. The vatrushka is delicious."

"Why do I find that so charming?" Piper asks without thinking.

"Maybe you just find _me_ charming."

Just then, Nicky pushes her way out and the clatter of the door makes Piper literally jump. "Alright, 445 bucks added to the endless pit of debts I already owe Red. And she loaned me the first aid kit because she's apparently psychic now."

"Or she just knows you well," Alex adds.

Nicky skillfully wraps a rubber band around the wad of cash in her hand, smirking as she looks back and forth between Alex and Piper. "Did I miss something a little less non-lesbian?"

"Oh my God." Piper literally does stomp her foot and marched back to the car.

"Nicky, you're such a dick," Alex mutters.

"What?" Nicky throws her hands up and cackles. "I just wanna let you two know that I expect to either be Best Man or Maid of Honor at the wedding! I'm not that picky!"

…

When they go to meet Cal's kidnappers, it's at the Motel 6 on the other side of the Lincoln Tunnel. There's no more laughter and no more non-lesbian jokes. They're just three teenage girls sitting in a piece of shit car, waiting, waiting and waiting.

Piper laughs out of nowhere and it's such a terrifying, ghost of a sound. "The last thing I said to him, to Cal, this morning…the last thing I did was call him an idiot…"

Alex and Nicky don't know how to respond to that so they don't.

When that familiar van pulls up, Piper reaches for the door handle, but Alex grabs her arm and says no. She says she'll do it. She doesn't want Piper or Nicky getting out of the car. This is a different, darker side of Alex Vause. She's no longer sweet, cute, Good Samaritan Alex. She's serious and commanding Alex and it's even sexier. Wait, sexier? Sexier like more sexy than the previous level of just sexy? Piper shuts her eyes tight for a long moment. This night is going to be the death of her.

So Alex (Piper is no longer going to think about the whole sexy debate) collects all of the money in the knapsack and gets out of the car to go meet the two men who drag out a body with a bag over his head. Piper sits on the edge of the seat and whimpers when she recognizes Cal's Star Wars t-shirt from this morning. Nicky reaches out for her and takes a hold of Piper's ice-cold hand.

For a moment, Piper wonders what if Alex is some psycho who's been working with these guys all along and this was a play to get their money? Piper wavers at times, but after everything they've been through together, seventeen years, she trusts Nicky. Can she trust Alex, a girl who's cute and charming and magically finds cell phones and volunteers a thousand dollars to help a poor little rich girl? What if this is all a setup? What if—

Piper gasps as she watches Alex throw the bag of cash at one of the men and then punches him across the face. Even Nicky watches with her jaw hanging down. The man doesn't retaliate, just takes the blow and hangs his head as Alex berates the both of them.

She really doesn't want to know, but asks anyway. "Nicky, Poussey said something about Alex being 'upper management.' What does she do exactly?"

"Uh, you know, I don't ever ask and, honestly, I don't really wanna know," Nicky replies. "She isn't kingpin status, but she doesn't deal to NYU brats on street corners either. Basically, those guys are her bitches. What I do know is that she's Alex. She's a good friend and she comes through for you."

Alex takes the bag off Cal's head and Piper has to swallow a whimper when she sees his bruised face. Piper's itching to get out of the car and help Alex, who's got Cal's arm around her shoulder, half-carrying half-dragging him. Wow, she really is an Amazon. Once the men drive off in the van, Piper finally jumps out of the car and goes to embrace her brother.

"Cal!"

"Piper," he mutters. "I fucked up…I fucked up…I fucked up..."

The blonde shushes him quietly and helps him into the backseat of the car. She sits beside him and Cal presses his face into his sister's shoulder as a sob erupts in his throat and travels through his entire body.

"I'm not a man," Cal whispers. "I'm not a man…I'm not a man…I'm not a man…"

"Guys, my parents can't see him like this," Piper says worriedly. She drapes her arm around his brother, careful not to hold him too tightly as he cries into her sweater.

"No worried, Chapmans," Nicky says as she revs the engine. "I've had my own separate apartment since before I could walk. And my mom is probably in Aruba or some shit anyway. You can stay at my place."

Piper's about to thank Nicky, she's been meaning to all day, but then Cal starts crying hysterically and all Piper can think to do it hug him and let the sense of relief and heartache wash over her as they drive off into the night.

…

When they get to Nicky's loft, there are people everywhere, drinking and smoking and dancing to the loud house music played by the DJ in the living area. It's no wonder why the doorman gave her a dirty look as they snuck in through the back—because this really isn't Gossip Girl's or the rest of the damn Upper East Side's business. Nicky just assumed the look was because they were dragging in an injured kid and the disgraceful possibility that he might bleed all over the spotless lobby floor.

"Hey!" Morello runs up to them. She's out of her concert/clubbing garb, now wearing tiny jean shorts and a comfy black baseball tee with _Jets_ (clearly West Side Story, not football) across the chest. "You're alive! And you all look scary sober!"

Nicky is so taken aback by the crowd of strangers in her home that she doesn't even take the time to appreciate how you can totally see Morello's hot pink bra through her tee. "What the fuck is this? Who are all these fucking people?"

"Nicky!" shouts a blonde girl with cornrows and a neck tattoo. "Yo, I don't know how this happened! I just invited a few people back after the club to, you know, chill and suddenly!" She motions to their surroundings and simulates an explosion with her hands.

"I'll tell you what happened, Tricia!" Nicky shouts over the thumping music. "You were trying to impress that Mercy bitch and threw a fucking party! Fuck man, just get me a beer and you're hiding all the sketchy shit before the maids come on Sunday, alright?"

"Nicky!" Piper calls out to her, not knowing how much longer she can support Cal's weight even with Alex holding up the other side of him. "Where can he sleep?"

Nicky shows them to the spare bedroom, where they walk in on Maritza Ramos, a Constance Billard girl pre-accidental pregnancy and also Flaca's best friend pre-accidental pregnancy, and her babydaddy well into the foreplay portion of the evening. Piper and Alex carefully bring Cal to the bathroom to clean him up a bit as Nicky yells at the house crashers to get the fuck out. They try to confuse her with Spanish and pretend they don't understand English and it just makes Nicky angrier. It's been too long a day for that game.

They realizes they left the first aid kit in the car and make the educated guess that Nicky doesn't have one. Alex runs to get it as Piper gets Cal cleaned up to the best of her limited abilities. He doesn't seem to be hurt beyond the bruises and scrapes. He manages to walk on his own back to the guestroom and apologizes to his sister the entire time. Now that she can take a moment, Piper realizes she isn't mad. People make dumb decisions. That's a given. It doesn't make them any less of a good person.

There's a knock on the door and Morello walks in with two bottles of water.

"Nicky said to bring this to you," Morello says, handing one bottle to Piper and the other to Cal. "And I thought you could use this." She digs into her pocket and pulls out an iPhone charger with a smiley face drawn on the adaptor in Sharpie. "That one was my idea. No way I'm giving Nichols credit there."

"Thank you, Morello." Piper twists off the cap and takes a small sip. She's been so caught up in anxiety and stress (and thoughts of Alex) that she's completely forgotten about feeling hunger or thirst or checking the battery on her phone. 7%. Aw, shit.

As Cal guzzles down his water and Piper leans over to plug her phone into the closest outlet, Morello quietly observes them.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say this isn't exactly your scene," Morello says. When Piper becomes aware of her watchfulness, Morello tries to ease her nerves by walking over to the nearby mirror and checking on her lipstick.

"Nope, not my scene at all," Piper confesses. "But it's yours?"

"Eh. Sometimes it's better than home, you know? Home is just as crowded with loud, senseless strangers, but at least here no one's gonna say anything if I have a sip or two of vino here and there. And I love my girls from my neighborhood, but sometimes I just don't wanna see them, you know?"

"Mhmm," Piper agrees. She thinks of Polly and Larry and how she hasn't seen or communicated with either of them all day or night and she doesn't feel as guilty as she maybe should.

"Nicky and Alex, well, they're smug lesbian jerks is what they are, but I feel more like me when I'm around them," Morello muses, continuing to read Piper's mind. "Makes sense? I don't know."

"Totally," Piper says. "They have that effect on a lot of people I'd assume."

"Once they accept you into the tribe—and make no mistake, Piper Chapman, you are definitely one of us now whether you like it or not—you've got another home if you want it. Not gonna lie, it's a mess, we're all a mess, but we're a mess together and it's home."

She isn't really sure how Morello does it, but Piper finds herself smiling yet again.

Then, very quietly, almost inaudibly, Morello whispers, "I'd hate myself if I ruined what I've got here…"

Piper is known for jumping to conclusions, often wrong conclusions, and Morello's own little confession can easily be misleading, but Piper can't help, but feel that she gets it, gets what Morello is saying, the heart of it, the fear in it. If only her strategy to play it safe wasn't slowly killing Nicky in the process.

Before any more can be said, Alex comes rushing into the room with the first aid kit, but Cal is already sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. The girls all head for the door, but before Piper closes it behind her, she looks in on her little brother, so grateful that he's alive and well and the night is finally over.

…

"This night has been insane."

"Insane?" Nicky asks in a way that's clearly meant to tease Piper. "There haven't even been any strippers or hard liquor! No methheads took their shirts off and danced to a shitty radio hit! Hate to break it to you, Alice, but you're still only knee deep in our world."

"If this is knee deep I don't know if I could handle being fully submerged."

Piper looks across the kitchen to where Morello is trying to get Alex to eat something somewhat resembling nachos, but by the grossed out look on the much taller girl's face, the food content is questionable at best. Nicky catches Piper watching, smiles and clicks her tongue.

"You sure about that, Chapman? Looks to me like you'd like to be fully submerged in _someone_." When Piper starts to turn red, Nicky sighs and props her elbow up on Piper's shoulder. "Look, blondie, your brother's safe and sound so it's time to celebrate! You can finally let loose a bit. Here, the shot I promised you."

Nicky grabs a bottle of tequila and pours a shot with the precise twist of her wrist.

"We have school tomorrow," Piper whispers. "I'm completely thrown off my sleep cycle. I usually wake up…three hours from now!"

"Hey, no one ever died from lack of sleep. Plus, that's what Sister Ingalls' class is for. I do this shit all the time. I'll make sure we get to school…as close to on time as possible. All I'm sayin' is if you don't want anything to do with our crazy, fun Wonderland then cool, I respect that, it isn't for everyone, _but_ you're here now, might as well make the most of it."

Nicky pushes the shot glass closer to Piper, centimeter by centimeter. Piper looks from the shot to her enabler with tired eyes, drawing out this quiet little moment between them.

"Thanks for everything, Nicky. I mean it."

"Jesus, Chapman, kill the sentimentality and just fucking drink it already!"

Piper smiles and shifts her gaze to Alex, who's manning the blender and making margaritas, as Constance Billard's model student downs the tequila, much to Nicky's delight.

…

Piper wakes up to Alex asleep on one side of her and on her other side there's Nicky with her head tilted back and her mouth open and Morello using Nicky's outstretched arm as a pillow. Piper tries to make sense of how she ended up in this particular position. Everything after that first shot is a dirty blur.

"You're thinking so loud it's giving me a headache." Alex's voice is caught between being joking and exhausted. She flashes Piper a smile before pushing her glasses up into her hair and rubbing her eyes. "Shit, I hate falling asleep with my glasses on."

"Did we have an orgy last night?" Piper shouts.

Alex laughs like she finds Piper on the verge of hyperventilating pretty damn cute. "Sadly, no. There's just perverts passed out in every other room aside from this one and the one your brother's in so we came in here to sleep. You were already out cold. Did you know you sleep like a starfish?"

Piper ignores that and turns to Nicky who grunts in her sleep and shifts closer to Morello. Nicky's hand moves to Morello's hip and when she tugs her closer, the dark-haired girl's faded red lips slide into a smile. Alex leans over Piper to wave a hand in front of Nicky and Morello's faces. When they don't react, Alex grabs Piper's beat up phone and snaps a picture of their sleeping friends before falling back against a pillow with a laugh.

"I don't know if you're aware, but there's fucking gum jammed into your phone," Alex says groggily. "And Polly has texted...and called...and tweeted you like a million times."

Nicky mumbles in her sleep. Something that sounds a lot like "thirsty bitch."

"I'm aware. No clue how that happened, but I know," Piper says as calmly as possible. She looks over at Nicky again and sighs. "I don't mean to shit on your dreams, but Nicky, we have to be on campus in two hours!" Piper really, really, _really_ hates to have to do this, but starts shaking Nicky by her shoulders. "Nicky!"

"Jeez! All I need is ten minutes to put on mascara and throw on some clothes," Nicky mumbles, still with her eyes cemented shut. "Fine, we'll go. Twenty minutes. You can borrow whatever. Go crazy, Chapman."

Piper worms her way out from the middle of the bed, briefly fighting with the sheets that are twisted around her legs, between Alex's legs and under Nicky. Piper manages to stumble out and to Nicky's walk-in closet. She starts sifting through the stacks of clothes, searching for some acceptable form of Constance Billard uniform.

"Do you have anything that doesn't smell like nicotine and meaningless sex?" Piper shouts. Quiet laughter meets her ears and when she turns, Alex is leaning in the doorway.

"So, Nicky needs her cold med cocktail and she'll be right as rain. For Lorna, I usually make her one of those toaster waffles and she usually shoves it in her mouth as she runs out the door, freaking out over being late for school. What can I get for you, kid?"

"A do-over button would be nice. Thanks."

"Hmm, don't think Nicky's got one of those in the pantry, but I could check."

"Tea," Piper says. "Some tea to-go would be great. Thanks for asking."

Piper brings a blazer to her nose to sniff and it smells like deodorant and that's good enough for her. She doesn't hear retreating footsteps and when she turns, Alex is even closer.

"After our traditionally hectic quickie breakfast, you aren't going to disappear on me, are you, Piper Chapman?"

"I kind of owe you a thousand dollars," Piper says, the first thing that came to her mind evidentially. Alex laughs softly and Piper's still asking herself why this chick makes her so nervous and bumbling, this chick who's also affiliated with drug dealers, but who's also undoubtedly gorgeous. It's plain to see regardless of your sexual preference.

"Wait, you have a little something…" Alex reaches out and Piper knows she should pull away. She knows she should shut this down, but doesn't move as Alex pulls a chewed up lime wedge from her tangled blonde hair. "Get-togethers at Nicky Nichol's are always an adventure."

"I—I have a boyfriend," Piper blurts out. She expects Alex to color with confusion or embarrassment, anything other than amusement.

"It's cool." Alex laughs gently. "I have a girlfriend."

That's when Alex kisses her in Nicky Nichol's closet and Piper doesn't stop her. She just closes her eyes and lets herself slip deeper and deeper into this mind-altering, liquor-drenched drug of a wonderland.

...

_Spotted: N and P literally running late for school_. _Maybe N is rubbing off on our queen in more ways than one…or maybe that's their Rockabilly Babe Escort's job? My, oh my, what ever will Pie Fucker think of all this? (But does anyone really care what Pie Fucker thinks?) And so the plot thickens. Where were our favorite insiders all night long and who is this Rockabilly Babe? Stick with me, Gossips. Only time will tell. Well, time and me. _

_Xoxo Gossip Girl _

* * *

**Author's note**: I won't lie. This was super fun to write, a fun 'verse in general. Might become a series one day. I don't know. (But Gossip Girl probably does.)

**Fun fact**: Every OITNB character has a role and a life in this universe similar to their canon one, but somehow tweaked whether they were shown or mentioned or not. I thought out most of all of it. I am a psycho. Reviews are my heroin. They make me want to write more. Do what you wish with that!


	2. La Douleur Exquise

**Disclaimer**: I don't own shit.

**Author's note**: I got as far as clicking "new story" but, damn, that's so much work so I'm just going to post everything dealing with the HS GG AU here, cool?

**Summary**: What's Nicky Nichols to do when the girl she's in love with is decidedly straight and obsessed with a band geek named Christopher, her biological mother is the definition of suck and Gossip Girl is digging up her junkie past for the entire world to see? Go on a drug buying spree on a school night, of course.

* * *

**La Douleur Exquise**

Nicky Nichols and Gossip Girl have a love-hate relationship.

Love because Nicky finds it kind of fucking hilarious and pathetic how a dumb blog can put the fear of god into some of their classmates who hang on every word and hold their breath in anticipation for the next update. Not to mention the Chapman epic fuck-up posts are always good for a laugh on a shit day.

Hate because one minute Nicky publicly tells Gossip Girl to go fuck herself/himself/itself/themselves (?) and the next everyone's phones chime with a "ding dong Nicky Nichols isn't into dong because she's a lesbian." Not that it was ever some big fucking secret. Nicky has known this about herself from a young age and embraced it. Most people knew. It was just never something that came up in polite society party small talk before. Again, Nicky embraced it and threw herself a coming out party. Dumb as fuck, but it sent Gossip Girl a message—_you can't break me, motherfucker_.

Most days Nicky doesn't mind being a star in Gossip Girl's fucked up little musical. Most days it's more of a relief that the truth is all out there for everyone to see and so there's nothing about her that hasn't been said. She doesn't try to hide anything because lies and secrets just fuel and encourage Gossip Girl. She's a former junkie and forever a highly addictive personality type who likes a good party and everyone knows it so she's free to live honestly. Maybe sometimes too honestly.

"No, no, no, this is all wrong!" Lorna hits a button on her phone and drops it onto the scattered notebooks, textbooks and loose pieces of paper that currently cover Nicky's dinner table. "Gossip Girl got it wrong! I'm not from Jersey! Alex gets to be the Rockabilly Babe and I'm the Jersey Shhhwhore?"

Nicky's working on a particularly complicated math problem, but completely abandons it to laugh, nearly falling backwards and bringing the chair with her.

"At least Gossip Girl liked your lipstick," Nicky points out. "Eh, what color is that anyway? Shhhwhore Hot?"

"Shut up." Lorna takes a set of neatly stapled papers out of a folder with a puppy on it and tosses it over to Nicky, who's sitting across from her. "Look over my paper, will ya? And be honest."

Nicky takes the essay, happy for a break from Pre-Calculus that makes her want to tear all her hair out on a good day and set herself on fire on a bad one. Lorna goes on highlighting whatever in a packet of papers as Nicky tucks her pencil behind her ear, leans back in her chair and reads over the papers stained with coffee rims and smudges of lipstick.

"This essay is terrible." Nicky laughs, biting lightly on the end of the red pen in her hand. Lorna tears the paper away from Nicky and swats her with it. "What? You said to be honest! Did you even read the Great Gatsby?"

"Sure, I did!" Lorna shouts, with her chin tilted up. Something she's picked up from hanging out with Chapman too much, Nicky is sure.

"I mean the book, not the opening credits of the movie, kid."

Morello flips her off with a short, slim finger that Nicky stares at, wants to bite. She then steals the pencil from Nicky's hair, sets it in the Pre-Calculus book and shuts it.

"C'mon, Nichols, let's take a break."

Lorna grabs the bag of cheesy puffs on the breakfast bar and tugs on Nicky's arm until she follows her to the couch in the living area. Lorna turns on the flat screen TV and surfs through the channels as Nicky tosses cheesy puffs into the air, trying to catch them in her mouth. She's fairly successful two out of every three tries. One second they're joking and laughing, their shoulders knocking into each other. The next goes quiet and they're still looking at each other as the smiles fade into _something else_.

Nicky can't ever help the thoughts she has when she's around Lorna. The girl is like a puzzle Nicky wants to solve and suck and have sex with. She really meant it when she told Alex and Piper she'd stop if she could. Lorna's a good friend and fun to be around and Nicky could really do without the constant nagging in her head, telling her that life would be so much better if her palms were constantly full of Lorna's tits or if their fingers were laced just for the sake of holding hands.

These impulses are fairly easy to hold back when she forces herself to think about lame, dumb things like consequences. In this moment, though, Nicky doesn't think, she doesn't even try to psych herself up beforehand, just kisses Lorna square on the mouth. Nicky shuts her eyes, threads her fingers through Lorna's soft hair and savors every second because she's certain she just sabotaged this friendship.

But then the strangest thing happens—Lorna kisses her back. Nicky feels something surge through her entire body; a thrill _of maybe this girl likes me too_. It surprises her in the best way when Lorna sucks hard on her bottom lip. Nicky smirks, parting her lips in invitation. She gets lost in the way Lorna's licking into her mouth, all electrically charged and fucking hot. Nicky doesn't realize she's copping a feel until her fingers tweak Lorna's left nipple, making her gasp and snap out of whatever spell she was under. Lorna pushes Nicky's hand away and moves to the other end of the couch, struggling to catch her breath.

Neither says anything right away. The calm before the shitstorm.

"Nichols," Lorna says breathlessly. "That...shouldn't have happened."

"What? You didn't like it?" Nicky pants just as heavily. "You've got a funny way of showing it."

"Well, now I know your reputation is no joke..." Lorna nervously combs her fingers through her hair that had Nicky's fingers in it just seconds ago. "I think this break was long enough. We should get back to homework..."

Nicky sits for a moment, hunched over, a little hurt, but mostly angry at herself and sick of denying her feelings. "You know I'm into you, right?"

Lorna stops mid-wiping at the corners of her mouth. "Nicky, you know I'm not, you know..."

"Yeah, yeah, you aren't gay. You're obsessed with fucking Christopher, who thinks you're creepy and annoying, by the way. But unless I'm making shit up in my head or just fucking dumb, I could have sworn you were pretty into me just then."

"What do you want me to say?" Lorna's voice rises and her accent just gets thicker. "You're Nicky Nichols! You're a good kisser! But you're also Nicky Nichols, my friend, and I like being _just_ friends. Every teen movie and TV show proves that gettin' physical ruins friendships. Let's not go there, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Nicky sniffs loudly and grabs her keys off the coffee table. "I'm going out. Lock up when you leave, alright?"

"Where are you going?" Lorna asks gravely. "To get high?"

"Don't fucking judge me, Morello."

"Just because I don't wanna be one of your playthings, one of those girls you sleep with and never talk to ever again doesn't mean I don't care! You start using that shit again Red is gonna kill you."

"Don't worry about me. Just don't forget to lock up and put the spare key in the spot before you go."

"Nicky," Lorna whines, just not in the way Nicky would like. "Please don't get messed up over this. I'm not worth it."

The front door is in her sights, but Nicky pauses and turns to look at Lorna from over her shoulder. "You're worth more than you think. Don't sell yourself short, kid."

Nicky doesn't wait for Lorna's reaction before she slams the door and heads for the stairs. She spends the rest of the night wandering around the city, killing an entire pack of cigarettes as she does, debating in her head if that sexy, short-lived lip lock was worth the shit storm that followed. Nicky thinks up maybe a dozen different ways that scene in her loft could have played out, but in every single one, Nicky kisses her. Consequences be damned.

...

Piper is exhausted.

She's just about to leave campus after finally getting out of her after school Spanish Club meeting. She has so much going on in her life. At the top of that is worrying about Cal, who hasn't been quite the same since being kidnapped by drug dealers, not to mention her parents nagging her about social obligations. Then there are academics, extracurricular activities included. Thankfully, cross country is over for the season, but Miss Mendoza, who Piper sort of loves even though she's terrifying, names her head of their booth at tomorrow's multicultural fair mostly to spite the other girls when Piper is the only one who showed up to the meeting on time.

All she wants to do is go home and take a hot shower, maybe a long soak in the tub with the new spring wildflower exfoliating bath salts she just bought. A little Piper-time would be heaven. Then she can get to all the other things and people crying out for her attention.

"Nice skirt."

Piper looks up from her phone that's still roughed up, but with a new case, and there's Alex Vause looking so amused, slowly dragging her eyes up and down Piper's schoolgirl uniform. Her first thought is how nice it is to see Alex. With their busy schedules, it's been a while since the last time they hung out. Second, Piper realizes she looks like a complete mess and, oh god, in front of Alex of all people.

"How's Cal doing?" Alex asks.

"Home, healthy, clean," Piper replies. "A little shaky. Some days I feel like he really is going to up and leave, go and live in the wilderness with as little human interaction as possible. He's good though. Thanks for asking."

"No problem."

"So, Alex Vause, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Piper cringes as soon as the words leave her mouth. Did she really just say that?

"Did you really just say that?" Alex chuckles and it's such a gentle, laidback sound. It really is unfair how effortlessly cool Alex Vause is. "I wish I could say I'm here for pleasure and not business."

Despite Alex's voice that's almost as playful as it is heavy with worry, Piper immediately thinks of that other part of Alex, the one that slaps around drug dealers in parking lots of sketchy motels. The memory alone is enough to make Piper think to back away, but she doesn't.

"Was Nicky at school today?" Alex asks.

"No, she wasn't. I texted her this morning when she didn't show and she told me she's out sick. I asked if she wanted me to bring her assignments or textbooks to the loft, but all she replied with was l-o-l so... Now that I think about it, she's been acting weird for the past couple days. Moody and just not like herself."

"We have a situation," Alex says. The way her words tiptoe around whatever it is that's going on, Piper knows to expect it to be bad. "Come on, Lorna can explain. Her accent gets crazy when she's frantic so good luck."

"Why is she frantic?"

Alex just juts her head to the side and Piper follows her to a sleek silver sports car parked around the corner. It's a gorgeous car and a miracle it's in pristine condition given the neighborhoods Alex is known to hang around. Alex makes a big deal (joke?) about opening the door for Piper and motioning her inside. The blonde quickly slides into the leather seat in an attempt to hide how hot her face feels all of a sudden.

They end up meeting Morello at a pizza parlor that's owned by her cousin's uncle's dad's uncle or something like that and the waiter breaks out the good wine the moment Alex steps in through the door. They sit in one of the back booths and Lorna fills Piper in on what happened with Nicky the other day. Alex's phone keeps ringing and she keeps excusing herself from the table to take her calls outside.

"Now Nicky won't talk to me," Morello says miserably. "I've been texting and calling and I feel so guilty. What if she starts using again? All because of me."

Piper shakes her head resolutely. "No, don't think like that. Nicky's just in a mood. She'll bounce back. She knows she can't force you to feel a certain way."

"That's the other thing...I didn't exactly hate making out with her. I don't know if it's because it's been a while..." Morello takes a breath, twining her fingers together. "I'm not gay. I've never felt anything for other girls beyond ass envy. But Nicky just...she's Nicky! She's great at what she does and making you feel special and wanted."

"True," Piper agrees. "But I'm pretty sure she tries a little harder when it comes to you."

Lorna's eyes widen, deer in the headlights at its finest. "You know?"

"_You_ know?" Piper asks in return. The way Nicky talks about Morello when they should be working on their lab report (of course Piper and Nicky are randomly paired up as lab partners because of course), she's always so over the moon giddy and Piper has always wondered if Morello realized or not. "I mean, Nicky doesn't exactly try to hide it, but I always thought..."

"Well…" Lorna hesitates and twists her fingers together so hard they start to lose circulation. "Yeah, I know she flirts with me a ton, but she flirts with everyone! I never thought it meant more."

Piper frowns in one of the few instances where she isn't happy about being right. "Don't worry. I'm sure she's fine."

"I better try to call Tricia again," Morello mutters. "For the hundredth time now, I might add."

Piper has met Tricia Miller a few times since the impromptu party at Nicky's loft the night they saved Cal. She just turned fifteen, a product of a tough family situation and a victim of the system, whose foster parents don't seem to mind that she spends most nights sleeping in the spare room at Nicky's. Another thing Piper has recently learned about Nicky is that she's sort of known for taking in strays and acts like an older sister to the girl with the throat tattoo.

When Morello calls just to be sent to voicemail again, Alex finally returns to the table, pushes her glasses up into her hair and massages her temple. Piper can't help, but wonder if it's regarding Nicky or the other type of business she's deeply invested in.

"Damnit," Morello curses. "I think Tricia's ignoring my fucking phone calls."

"Let me try," Alex volunteers. She dials on her phone and puts it on speaker.

Tricia picks up almost immediately. "Hey Vause, w'sup?"

Lorna reaches across the table and grabs Alex's wrist, pulling the phone closer to her. "Oh, so you ignore my twenty calls, but answer Vause on the second ring?"

"Yo, you aren't dumb, Morello," Tricia replies. "You know whose side we're all on."

Morello's fingers slip away from Alex's wrist and she falls back into her seat with a defeated thump. Her eyes go to the wine on the table, but she grabs the serving spoon instead and digs right into the mac and cheese.

"Tricia, where's Nicky?" Alex demands to know. "Screw your bullshit code of honor. This is bigger than dyke drama. Nicky could seriously get hurt or seriously hurt herself."

"I don't know, man. She took like a grand out from behind the creepy ass mermaid painting and left. I asked if she wanted me to go with, but she knew I got this test I really need to pass."

"Shit," Alex curses. "Keep me posted if you hear from her or if she heads back there."

"Sure thing, Vause."

"And stop being an ass to Lorna," Alex says sharply. "She's our friend too."

Piper's phone buzzes with an update from Gossip Girl and despite everything that's happening, it's an automatic reaction to swipe her finger across the screen and pulls up the app.

…

_Looking for a special treat to cap off your Thursday evening? I've got just the scoop for you. Zero calories and a hundred-percent scandal. Looks like our life of the party lezzy is back to her gluttonous ways. Seconds ago, N posted this delicious tweet for the world to see…_

Embedded below is a screenshot of a tweet straight from Nicky's Twitter:

WHERE THE FUCK CAN A POOR LIL RICH GIRL SCORE SOME DRUGS HUH?

Just under it is a second screencap of a reply from a random with directions to a warehouse party.

_If money makes the world go round and diamonds are forever, then addictions are never over. Be careful, N. We wouldn't want to lose you to "Fat Camp" Part 2. _

…

"Stupid fucking idiot!" Alex shouts angrily. She starts dialing her phone, practically stabbing the screen with each press of her finger. "Nichols, this isn't fucking funny! Tell me that tweet is bullshit. Piper, Lorna and I are here worrying about your stupid fucking idiot ass! Call me back."

Alex ends the call and forces herself to sit down when it really looks like she'd rather be pacing or kicking the shit out of anything within reach. Piper taps her feet against the ground and tries to search for a bright side while Morello continues to shovel mac and cheese into her mouth, forgetting what a napkin is or what it's used for, forgetting table manners entirely.

"At least Nicky…spelled most of everything correctly?" Piper says. "She can't be too impaired if her spelling is on point, right?"

After taking a deep breath that makes her shoulders rise and fall, Alex pries the spoon out of Morello's hand and pushes the platter of mac and cheese to the other end of the table.

"Alright, Lorna, I need you to keep it together. We are going to this party and you aren't drinking tonight because I don't need mac and cheese and Long Island Iced Tea all over the leather seats," Alex decides. "Pipes, you don't have to come with this time. Lorna and I have it covered from here. I can text you updates or you could probably just check that stupid Gossip Girl thing."

It doesn't sound like a challenge like it might be on any other night and concerning any other person in the world. Alex really does seem more concerned about Nicky than flirting with Piper and something about that is even more alluring.

"No, I want to," Piper insists. "For Nicky."

…

Alex has been to the Morello house on a number of occasions, but never inside. Usually it's to drop her off, sitting with Nicky in the car at ungodly hours, barely able to contain their laughter as they watch (and record) a tipsy Lorna trying to sneak in undetected. It's the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows everyone and there are always people hanging out on their stoops and kids playing in the streets. Alex can't help, but notice how uncomfortable Piper seems with her surroundings.

"You know, it's okay to breath." Alex takes a dramatic breath just for show. "See. I'm fairly sure it's oxygen. We're in Brooklyn, not Mars."

Piper narrows her eyes and playfully shoves Alex's knee as they sit on the Morello family's stoop. Alex smiles behind her cell phone as Piper tucks strands of her hair behind her ears. It isn't lost on either of them how it sounds like utter chaos inside the townhouse. Screaming. Shouting. Shit breaking. Piper keeps looking over her shoulder, but bites her tongue while Alex has other things that need her attention.

"I have all my people on alert," Alex announces. She sets it on the step between them. If Nicky calls (which is purely wishful thinking, Alex knows) it'll be more obvious than in her pocket. "If any of them even think about selling to Nicky they might as well skip town now."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

Piper's pink lips part, but then she reconsiders. "No…never mind. Forget I said anything."

Alex sits a little taller and angles toward Piper. "No, I want to know."

"Just…how are you so adamant about stopping Nicky from doing drugs again when you fuel a thousand other people's addiction?"

The question hits her like a slap across the face, but Alex doesn't react with anger, more surprise than anything. Piper seems to assume the former and leans away.

"You really want to question my moral compass right now?" Alex asks with a lofty laugh. "After we, oh, admitted to being in relationships with other people and then made out in Nicky's closet? In that order, I might point out."

Piper nods and takes a slow, silent breath. "I was wondering when that would come up," she murmurs beneath her breath. "So, how is your girlfriend?"

"Needy, wondering why I'm being so distant, anticipating a break up," Alex replies. "How's your boyfriend? Other than clueless."

"He's good."

Alex is known for finding tense silences amusing and showing it with a smirk, but she has bigger concerns than whatever the fuck is happening between her and the lovechild of Cher from Clueless and Susan B. Anthony.

"I've known Nicky for a while," Alex says quietly. "I knew her back when she was strung out all the time. I never judged her then and I didn't judge her when she came to me post-detox and said she needed me to help her stay away from heroin. Now that's what I'm doing. Because I may work for an international drug cartel, but I'm also Nicky's friend and she's always been a good one to me. Now, can we drop this almost dyke drama whatever and focus on Nicky?"

"Okay."

Alex grabs for her cell phone again and hits the power button just to see no new calls or texts. As silence settles between them yet again, the boisterous Italian voices engaging in a screaming match become even more apparent.

"We should give Gossip Girl something to talk about other than Nicky," Piper muses. She pulls out her phone and opens the camera, holding it out to snap a selfie with Alex grinning over her shoulder. "I'm Instagram-ing with the location set to Brooklyn."

"What a rebel," Alex teases. "Your family won't see it and flip out?"

"The only time my dad ever uses a computer is to check the stock market and my mom has a personal assistant to do all her Googling for her. Eliqua and I have an agreement that what mom doesn't know won't hurt her." Piper grins as she slides through photo filters. "I'm referring to you as hashtag-Rockabilly-Babe, by the way."

"You should also hashtag Thirsty Thursday."

Piper laughs in a _yeah-right_ way and shows Alex the filter she chose. "Do you like corn tortillas or flour better for quesadillas?" Piper asks out of the blue, maybe to keep the conversation flowing, maybe because she legitly would like an answer. "I have to make quesadillas for this multicultural week fair at school tomorrow."

"Wow. That was like the biggest kind of problems you had to deal with before you started hanging out with us, huh? Multicultural week at school. Corn or flour tortillas? Does this Instagram filter make me look like I'm from Jersey? What will Gossip Girl think if I wore—gasp—Toms to school?"

Piper gives her a look over, probably taking in Alex's voice full of mockery, but hopefully noticing her amused smile.

"Pretty much," Piper replies. "But I'm choosing to be here, to make all of your problems and Nicky's and Morello's mine because we're friends."

"Is that all you want to be, Piper Chapman?" Alex tilts her head to one side. "Friends?"

The front door rattles and when Piper literally jumps, Alex looks to the ground and smiles. Lorna walks out, wearing an insanely tiny, form-fitting blue dress with her bra straps showing and patchwork heels. She puts everything she has into slamming the door behind her. Lorna glares hard at the door and flips it off just for good measure.

"Careful, shortie, you might hurt the door's feelings," Alex jokes. Just like that, all the tension between Piper and her dissolves. It's like it was never there, another one of Alex's talents. "Jesus, I'm starting to see why you're always over at Nicky's."

"Alright, time to go! My brother was talkin' about askin' you to his prom _again_, Vause, " Lorna says. "Oh, and Chapman, I got you a little something, thought you might not wanna go to a party in your school uniform." She drops a brown paper American Apparel bag in Piper's lap. "It's my sister's. You're way thinner than Franny, but shouldn't be too bad. I don't think you'll look like a meerkat in a grocery bag."

"Thank you, Morello," Piper says. "How, um, thoughtful?"

Alex and Lorna sit up front in the silver sports car as Piper attempts to change in the backseat. When they come to a red light, Lorna leans forward to fiddle with the radio, searching for something other than commercials to listen to, while Alex can't help the way her eyes drift to the rearview mirror.

"Eyes up front, Vause," Piper barks.

Even after being caught and called out, Alex lets her eyes linger for a second longer, makes eye contact with Piper through the mirror, before she averts her eyes. It only makes her smile even more where she notices Lorna grinning and shaking her head out of her peripherals.

…

_Spotted—more like announced: Our Queen P is up to her mysterious ways yet again with the equally mysterious Rockabilly Babe. Like the nickname, P? The first bite's free. The second might cost you. The last time these two were spotted in questionable parts beyond the kingdom's walls, N was leading the way. And where is she now? Picking up a few party favors maybe? _

_Here's a late #TBT in honor of current events… _

The photo that follows is a grainy one, but Nicky's wild head of hair is unmistakable. Her limp body is on a stretcher as two paramedics get her into the back of an ambulance.

…

The warehouse party is literally in a warehouse in Brooklyn. Piper should have expected as much. What she didn't expect was to see so many faces from school, Constance Billard girls free of their uniforms, donning red, yellow, or green glow sticks, grinding on hot bodies with laser lights dancing overhead. They split up to cover more ground except Alex kind of sticks to Piper's side, well, behind her, towering over her really, probably enjoying the view of Piper in the little sequin number that rivals the five disco balls hanging from the overhead beams.

Familiar faces come into view, shouting at each other, weaving back and forth between English and Spanish, hanging out in the back against a cinderblock wall covered in glow in the dark paint and other questionable substances revealed beneath blacklight.

"You have a fucking baby!" Flaca shouts at her much shorter former best friend, who also happens to be her former classmate. "What do you think you're doing here instead of taking care of it, dumbass?"

"The fuck are you doing here judging me and shit!" Maritza puts her hand to her ear, listening dramatically. "This is house music, not your fucking British pussy music."

Flaca narrows her eyes and shoves Maritza, sending the petite girl flying. She stumbles back into the father of her child that Piper recognizes from the accidental party at Nicky's. He tries to steady the girl who just shoves off of him and charges at Flaca. Before she even realizes what she's doing, Piper steps in to pull Maritza off of Flaca, who's already trying to grab a handful of the teen mom's hair. Alex follows suit and they manage to pull the two girls off of each other.

"What are you doing?" Piper shouts. "You're best friends!"

"Not anymore," Flaca says, with a deadly look in her eyes. "Shit changes. People change."

Maritza rolls her eyes dramatically and flips her hair as she walks off, disappearing into the crowd. Flaca stares after her with anger still in her eyes, but also loss and maybe a little regret. Piper would hate to ruin her moment of reflection, but every second counts if they're going to stop Nicky from doing something stupid.

"Um, Flaca," Piper says gently. "I'm sorry to interrupt your…yeah, but have you seen Nicky around here?"

Flaca turns to her and everything that was on her face seconds ago is nowhere in sight. The dark-haired girl juts out her hip with an expectant expression. "What you got for me this time, Chapman?"

"Seriously?" Piper throws her hands up. "I'm just asking a simple question!" Flaca doesn't respond, just look at her with eyes that probably eat souls. "Okay, I'll take over your shift at the Spanish Club booth tomorrow."

"Gracias," Flaca says pleasantly. "By the way, did you make your dish already? My mom is making tamales, but I signed up for dip. That's cool, right?"

"No, not cool!" Piper nearly stomps her foot, but resists with practiced restraint. "We made the sign-up sheet weeks ago! A sign-up sheet in an Excel spreadsheet no less is a binding contract! Plus, Polly signed up for tamales."

Flaca crosses her arms and purses her black-painted lips. "You think white girl can make better tamales than mi madre?"

"Okay!" Piper gives in immediately. "I'll text Polly and tell her to bring dip instead."

"Yeah, Nichols was around," Flaca says, nodding to the mostly dark, crazy crowded warehouse. "Girl was not messing around. She asked Ian for only the purest shit, the crystals that almost look like meth, pure MDMA, no cut, will mess you up for a good eight to twelve hours, but he was out. He sold her a couple capsules instead, maybe an hour ago. Your friend looked like she could use a happy high and quick. I wouldn't expect her to share."

"Which way did she go?" Alex interrupts.

"The fuck am I supposed to know," Flaca replies, eyeing Alex suspiciously. "Shit, you're tall."

"She left," says a voice with a thick Southern accent. Just as Piper turns to look behind her, Alex slides in front of her and squares her shoulders in a protective manner. "Nichols went off with another of your perverse-ed head fucked kind, hand in hand in sin, probably gonna go lesbian each other in the stairwell."

"Don't you have a Bible studies class or a crackhouse calling, Pennsatucky?" Alex asks coolly. Piper and Flaca trade looks before the Latina fixes the glowing red bracelet on her wrist and walks away with the dismissive wave of her hand.

"Sounds like you answered your own question," Pennsatucky replies. When the petite girl grins, Piper has to grind her own pearly whites together to keep from reacting with horror. "Nichols and her new girlie friend were asking around for Mendez."

"Mendez?" Piper repeats. "As in?"

"George Mendez," Alex says, not happy at all. "Everyone calls him Pornstache."

…

"She's a fucking recovering addict!" Lorna slams her fist against a table of red, yellow and green glow sticks, making them rattle around. "Why would you sell her weed?"

Poussey, who has multiple glowing green bracelets up and down her arms and glowing body paint on her face, looks from side to side as if unsure if Lorna is talking to her or is pissed off at someone else entirely. "Yo, it ain't like I sold her smack. Cannabis can help with depression, pain management, psychosis and according to recent studies, it's linked with a reduction in Alzheimer."

"Pot's a fucking gateway drug! You can't deny that." Lorna isn't buying any of Poussey's trademark sly shit. "Fucking salesman. You're worse than my uncle Tony down at the used car lot."

"Sales_person_," Taystee says from beside Poussey, wagging a finger at Lorna who is not having it. "Saying da ganja is a 'gateway drug' is like saying if you drink water you'll move on to hooch because they're both wet! One of them crackheads just got finished telling me God made weed unlike man-made chemically composed cigarettes like the ones Nichols is lighting up all the time. So which is better?"

"Dunno if you haven't noticed, Morello, probably too busy mooning over your bagpipe boy," Poussey says, "but Nichols smokes up _all the time_, man. Yo, chill."

"Except I've seen Nicky high and when she's high she'll go lookin' for a higher high if Vause or I ain't around to shove a box of Little Debbie oatmeal pies and a bottle of water in her hands so your studies don't apply and you can shove 'em."

"Alright, I'm sorry, okay?" Poussey narrows her eyes and runs her fingers over her miniature mohawk. "Damn! I came out to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now."

"Easy there, Morello. Your girl only bought a dime sack," Taystee says. "And she had some chick hanging all over her per ushe. If she shares, how much trouble could they get into?"

It doesn't surprise Lorna that Nicky's with someone, some girl nonetheless. Nicky always has someone, sometimes a few someones with her. There are always people trying to get into her wallet if they aren't trying to get into her pants. And the most infuriating part is that Nicky's smart enough to see through fake ass people, but she's too jaded to care. That's why Lorna likes Alex and Piper and their presence in Nicky's life. One works in the drug world and is too smart to let using get between her and the hustle. The other is too good to get into hardcore, scary shit. Above all, both don't care about money because they already have it.

As Lorna pushes her way through the crowd of strangers, lost among the faceless figures and disorienting lights, she can't help, but think, like _really_ think about things. She's always been the type to keep on moving, keep busy from day to day as to not think about what's really happening around her and what it all means. Truth be told, Lorna spends more time worrying about Nicky than she lets on, especially at parties like this, ones with limitless liquor and easy access to drugs.

It probably sounds crazy, but the only reason Lorna applied for the waitress position at Dmitri's is because Christopher works at his family's antique shop across the street. Not to stalk him or anything like that, just to increase the possibility that they'd run into one another. Plus, a job is an excuse for her to get out of the house and having a little extra cash is nice too.

Lorna met Nicky her first day on the job. Nicky, who works in the kitchen with Gina and Norma, prepping, but also comes out to wait on tables, who always has her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and acts tough, but looks anything but with all that hair stuffed into a hairnet. Nicky showed Lorna the ropes and took the blame (and the pay cut) when Lorna stumbled and broke a whole tray of dishes and wasted hot food. Nicky helped her clean it up, smirked, said everyone did it when they first started, a sort of initiation, and at least Red was in the backroom at the time, having an important meeting with her husband and sketchy men in suits.

After a month of working together, while closing and cleaning up, Nicky told Lorna about her past with heroin and that every day since has been a struggle. She also told Lorna about how she surrounds herself with people all the time, creating a family to compensate for the blood relatives who want nothing to do with her. That same night, Nicky invited Lorna to chill at her loft, a small get-together that quickly turned into a rager.

When they were both buzzed and watching Boo mercilessly hit on teenage girls, Nicky turned to Lorna and said, "I don't care if you start hanging out with me just 'cause I'm rich, that's fine, just don't lie to me."

And Lorna remembers thinking that yeah, she had been impressed with Nicky's loft and how she walked around the city with hundreds in her wallet—that crazy person—but that wasn't the reason Lorna spent her work breaks laughing as Nicky smoked a cigarette and told her a crazy partying story, instead of walking back and forth in front of Christopher's shop like she would have if they weren't friends. She remembers wanting to articulate all that somehow, but only managed a drunken, bubbly nod.

"Hey!"

When she feels a hand on her shoulder, Lorna quickly turns and finds Christopher. Christopher, the talented, incredible object of Lorna Morello's unrequited affection, the Christopher who wears a knit sweater and loafers to a warehouse party and has a yellow glow stick bracelet around his wrist that Lorna can't stop staring at. He has a crushed beer can in his hand and when someone bumps him from behind he falls into Lorna, nearly knocking the much smaller girl to the ground.

"Shit, my bad," he slurs.

"No, no, no, it's fine!" Lorna shouts nervously. "I'm fine. You're…fine."

"I know you! You're the girl at all of our shows!" he shouts over the music. "You're a fan, right?"

"Um, yeah," Lorna says quietly. "That's me!"

"Awesome!" He touches her shoulder and Lorna feels like she's going to combust in the middle of this crowded, disgusting warehouse. "You have to tell my drummer that my bagpipe solo on Car Bomb is the heart of the song! Come on! I need you to speak on behalf of our fanbase!"

"Lorna!"

She really does prefer to be called Morello, but Nicky ("Red calls you Lorna, why can't I?") and Alex ("What? It's a cute little old lady name!") are always the exceptions to every rule it seems. Lorna watches as Alex makes her way over, shoving a gross dude trying to dance up to her into a group of others without caring, barely even noticing. Her strength in every sense of the word is downright envy worthy.

"Lucky for you I'm so tall or else we'd never find you in here!" Alex shouts, before noticing Christopher and where his hand is still on Lorna's arm. Annoyance flickers through her eyes. "Bagpipe."

"Rude Record Store Girl." Christopher points at her though his aim is off, which means he's had quite a bit to drink. Alex's gaze goes from annoyed to downright protective, which can only mean she noticed the yellow glow around his wrist as quickly as Lorna did. "Y'know, you'd probably sell more if you weren't such a music snob."

"Your band is shit. We aren't going to play your demo in the store. The end."

Christopher scoffs. "Touchy."

"So," Alex says, "trouble in paradise with your John Shena girlfriend?"

Of course Alex has to ruin this moment for Lorna by mentioning that little detail that doesn't fit into her jigsaw puzzle of a perfect, beautiful future. What else are friends for?

"She isn't here. We got into a little…" Christopher catches himself, stares sadly at the glow stick bracelet for a second, before turning his foggy, angry gaze to Alex. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Well, good fucking luck with that!" Alex shouts, though her tone sounds more like _eat shit, asshole_. "Lorna, we gotta go! Piper and I have a lead on Nicky!"

Lorna focuses on Christopher who looks so lost and vulnerable, like a poor baby animal that's been separated from its mother. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip for a second before letting it go and moving aside so Christopher's hand falls back down to his side. The loss of his touch against her bare skin is almost enough to make her reconsider, but not quite.

"I'm sorry," Lorna says. "My friend needs me right now. But I'll see you at your next show, I promise! Oh, and you look really nice in that sweater!"

Christopher looks down at his sweater as Lorna follows Alex with sunken shoulders. Alex has the biggest smile on her face as she wraps her long arm around her short friend and pulls her into her side.

Alex bows her head to accommodate the major high difference and nearly shouts in Lorna's ear. "For the record, I would have kicked your tiny Italian ass right in front of your fantasy Ken doll if you decided to go with him!"

"And disappoint my favorite jolly rockabilly giant?" Lorna gasps. "Never!"

Alex laughs. "Come on! Let's go find our favorite former junkie wifey!"

"Before we do that we might have to rescue Chapman."

Lorna points across the way to where Piper is standing extremely still, glittering like a human disco ball every time the lights catch the sequin of her dress. She looks extremely uncomfortably as Boo circles her like a shark, doing a little dance that can only be interpreted as some sort of mating ritual. Alex curses under her breath and nearly sprints over while Lorna pulls out her phone and takes pictures, thinking Nicky would probably get a kick out of it.

…

Piper expects them to meet this Pornstache character in the back of a seedy bodega or in a mostly deserted parking structure, but no, they head to the Eastern Athletics Club right in Brooklyn. They stake out the entrance and Piper takes the time to read through the comments on her Instagram picture with Alex, picks up on Polly's passive aggressive use of emojis and Larry's earnestness when he asks when he's finally going to meet the Alex he's heard so much about. (The "much" totally does not include the whole works for an international drug cartel detail, obviously.)

Piper likes Larry. He's sweet and good to her and her parents love him. His father is a high power lawyer, his mother a housewife who maybe has a little too much time on her hands and spends it fawning over her son. Larry's the kind of boy she should be dating. Though Piper knows all of this to be fact and makes her feel bad about making out with a hot upper management drug dealer in a closet, that doesn't mean she wouldn't do it again. Piper stays up almost every night wondering if this makes her a bad person. Yes, her sleep cycle is totally fucked up.

Finally, George Mendez waltzes out of the gym wearing a polo shirt, tiny shorts, socks up to his knees and a sweatband, resting a racket on his shoulder. He's around their age, maybe a year or two older. Most know him on sight if not by name. Mendez is always stalking different high school handouts like a vulture, preying on the weak, naive and addicted. He got the nickname "Pornstache" because he's had a mustache since he was eleven and is oh so proud of it.

"What can I do for you, ladi—Shit! Vause! Bitch, this is out of your territory!"

"Fuck territory," Alex spits. "This is personal."

Mendez heads back to the entrance, but Alex leaps into action, yet again reinforcing the Amazon comparison. She grabs Mendez by the neck and steers him back down the street and around the corner into the nearest alley. Mendez tries to fight out of her grip and it just results in Alex shoving him into a brick wall face first.

"Kubra sure knows how to pick 'em, huh?" Mendez laughs. Alex grabs him by the hair on the back of his head and shoves his face harder into the wall. "Okay! Okay! Okay! The fuck do you want from me?"

"We can make this as quick and painless as possible if you agree to cooperate," Alex says calmly. "Did you sell to Nichols?"

"Yes."

Alex drags him around to face her and punches him in the nose. Piper flinches, covers her mouth with her hand, while Morello watches intently, tiny hands balled into fists.

"What?" Mendez shouts, holding his bloody nose. "I basically support my family. My ma doesn't exactly have it easy. Not to mention gym membership isn't cheap and exercise clothes? Why are they so fucking expensive when they're just going to get ruined faster than regular clothes?"

Morello steals his squash racket right out of his loose grip and hits him with it. Hard. "You know she has a history!"

"I also know she was willing to pay whatever to get her and her slutty little lesbian lover a fix!" Mendez shouts back. "Be careful with that, would ya? It's a Dunlop Aerogel! One of the top-rated squash rackets in the game!"

"Tell us everything," Alex says. "How did she seem, what did you sell her, where was she headed?"

"She seemed like a junkie, antsy, couldn't keep still, didn't even try to haggle me. Very agreeable and we all know that isn't Nichols in the least. I sold her a couple bundles. The purity puts your shit to shame, Vause. And your girl paid for it, oh, yes she did. Fuck if I know where she went after."

Alex finally lets go of him with a shove. "Real helpful, Pornstache."

"If you ask me, that one's a lost cause, Vause. You can swim with sharks, but once there's blood in the water..." Mendez makes a snarling "shark" sound. "A junkie is always going to be a junkie. You've made tons of 'em. Don't expect too much from Nichols."

"Hit him again, Lorna," Alex says, pulling out her phone to record it.

Piper can almost hear Nicky's cackle in her head, _do it for the Vine_! The fact that she isn't here with them, safe and sober, just makes Piper angry.

Morello whacks him with the racket one last time before Mendez finally recovers and rips it away from her. He's about to backhand Morello when Alex steps between them and he stops. There's a weight behind her eyes, behind her name and status in the underworld. Messing with Alex Vause is nearly the same thing as messing with her boss, Kubra, something that doesn't happen, an unwritten rule a low level dealer called Pornstache even respects.

Alex takes the racket, breaks it and throws it at his feet. "If I were you I'd think again before trying to sell to Nichols. If you do, worse will happen to you, I promise."

As they walk back to the car, Mendez shouts, "cunt!"

"You aren't gonna respond to that?" Morello asks. She keeps sneaking looks over her shoulder, anticipating retaliation that never comes. Piper does the same while Alex keeps her eyes forward and unlocks her car with a click.

"I might not respond right now, but I'm not going to forget either," Alex replies. "Not by a long shot."

After sitting in Alex's car for a while, trying to figure out the next step in their game plan, they end up going back to the warehouse where the number of partygoers seemed to have tripled. They go to ask around, try to see if anyone knows the identity of the "lesbian lover" who went looking to buy heroin with Nicky. It's a mostly fruitless effort when most of the room is either sloppy drunk or tripping hard on one thing or another.

Piper would rather not attempt to navigate the place that's packed from wall to wall. She mostly hangs out on the VIP balcony and texts Polly, who isn't happy about the menu change for the fair tomorrow and even unhappier about covering for Piper _again_ when Piper won't tell her what she's doing. With Gossip Girl's continuous updates, basically reposting and picking apart Nicky's tweets, Polly can probably guess what Piper is up to. Piper just tells her to trust her, but honestly, she isn't too sure how long that's going to last.

It's always been a struggle for Piper to try and understand Polly's enduring hatred towards Nicky. Piper doesn't understand how anyone can hate Nicky Nichols. Sure, Nicky can be crude and forward and she is the reason everyone called Polly "Polly Pocketsize Tits" for years, but Nicky never does it maliciously and she's dependable while often giving very good life advice. Well, then again, there was the whole Cotillion incident, but Nicky couldn't help herself, not really.

Polly is always so quick to point out how Piper is always making excuses for Nicky's fuckups and maybe that's true, but it's also true that she's going to be there for Nicky no matter how deep into the rabbit hole it leads her. After seeing how Flaca and Maritza are, how quickly two people can go from best friends to screaming at each other at sketchy parties, Piper hates the idea of her friendship with Polly suffering because of her friendship with Nicky and Nicky's world, but she doesn't feel like she's in the wrong place either.

And of course that's when Piper spots Flaca and Maritza giggling and grinding together as if nothing happened and her mouth falls open in shock. Then again, maybe some friendships are just volatile by nature and enduring at their core. Piper honestly doesn't know if she has that with Polly, she hopes, but can't know for sure.

Morello walks over with two bottles of water and hands one to Piper, saving her from her internal obsessing.

"Thanks," Piper says, twisting the cap off. "Any luck?"

"No one's talkin' to me," Morello replies with a strangled laugh. "Gossip Girl's doin' it all wrong, relying on Nichols' Twitter and tips from other rich kids. The real dirt's all in the streets. Nicky and Tricia got to everyone first."

Piper frowns and looks out over the masses in the dark. "So is this a regular thing?"

"What? The party? Not regular," Morello replies, seemingly happy for the topic change. "We mostly go to clubs or house parties or just hang out at the loft." Morello motions to the sea of bodies that are only distinguishable by the glow sticks on their wrists. "F'you were wonderin', red glow stick bracelets mean taken, green single and yellow means it's complicated. What's your color, Chapman?"

"Red," Piper replies. She inwardly cringes when she hears the forced conviction in her voice. She looks out over the crowd and when she realizes she's hoping to see a head of dark hair and sexy glasses, she visibly deflates. "Maybe yellow?"

"S'okay, I won't tell on ya." Morello presses her lips into a smile and nods enthusiastically. "Did it scare you earlier? The business with Pornstache?"

"You going all Bruce Lee on his ass? No, the jerk deserved it."

Morello smiles proudly and, okay, she's really sweet and adorable and it gets a little more obvious every second why Nicky is always talking about her or at least, how Nicky did before. Piper gets that other people are icing Morello out to show their loyalty to Nicky, but it's crazy to think someone wouldn't like this girl in a casual or friendly way. Morello actually makes Piper feel like she could maybe fit into this world.

"Thank, hon," Morello says, "but I meant Vause doing what Vause does."

Piper leans against the balcony railing and stares out as the gears in her head kick into overdrive. "I feel like I should be scared, but I'm not. The more I see the worse it gets, but the more I get to know Alex, I don't hate what I see. I've never been attracted to girls before this either, but she makes me think maybe I am or could be?"

"Nothing wrong with that. I've seen her with girls before, a serial monogamist for sure, but I've never seen her so smitten." Just as a guy handing out glow sticks comes up the stairs, Morello grabs a yellow one. She fiddles with it for a moment before Piper catches her eye and she slyly clips it around Piper's wrist. "To remember me by."

"What does that mean?"

"Like I said, yellow means _it's complicated_ so it fits ya, right?"

"No, why would I need something to remember you by?"

Lorna tries to shrug like it isn't a big deal, nervously twisting her hips from side to side. "Tricia did have a point. Things are gonna be awkward from here on out and you and Vause are gonna take Nicky's side. You _need_ to take Nicky's side. She needs you to. I need you to for my pace of mind, y'know?"

_Peace of mind_, Piper corrects in her head, but doesn't mention aloud. She's too busy debated if she should say something to Lorna, just like when they first met, but now that they've hung out a few times, traded numbers, are Facebook friends and mutual follows on Twitter, she decides it's probably okay to say it.

"Nicky needs you too."

"No." Morello shakes her head, looking so sad and maybe a little scared. "I can't give her what she wants."

"No, but you can give her what you can," Piper insists. "That's what friendship is, giving the people we care about what we can without expectations or ultimatums. I can't speak for Nicky, but if I know her, she isn't going to throw away your friendship just like that. And if she tries to, you shouldn't let her."

Morello stares at Piper, then nods and smiles in a way that makes her face crinkle and she really is adorable. "You're alright, Chapman. You're alright."

Piper isn't too sure what that means for the future of their little messed up club (family), but she'll take it.

…

Nicky doesn't know where she is or what she's doing. She just wants to go to sleep, something she hasn't been doing much in the last few days. She just wants to dive into her bed, burrow between the goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets, but can't because she's walking down a dark street in Queens with some chick under her arm, a long way from her comfy bed. Before she even realizes it, she's walking into Dmitri's and a "We're closed!" is flying at her before she gets two steps inside.

"Is that any way to greet your favorite daughter?" Nicky asks in return.

Red, the badass Russian matriarch with red hair styled in a way that kind of emulates actual fire, stops stacking chairs and looks Nicky right in the eyes. "Are you high?"

"I wish it were that simple, mom."

Red's expression softens at the sight of Nicky, probably looking so pathetic and weak, but not for very long. Her tough bitch front reassembles when she realizes they aren't alone. There's a girl glued to Nicky's side, asking in a hushed whisper why the fuck she would think to bring her to meet her mom and what about the drugs they were going to do. Red dusts off her hands and walks closer, rolling up her sleeves as she does.

"Daughter of mine, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Nicky looks from Red to the girl and, shit, what is her name? All Nicky can remember is wanting to call her _Morello_ when they were making out on the train. Several seconds pass and when Nicky doesn't respond, Red makes a sound of exasperation and impatience.

"You, young lady, go," Red says sternly.

The girl looks to Nicky, who just shrugs as if to say, _eh, mother knows best_. The girl scoffs and holds out her hand. "Aren't you going to at least give me cab fare for bringing me all the way out to Queens? I thought you fucking lived on the Upper East Side!"

Nicky doesn't argue or correct her, just hands over two crisp hundred-dollar bills to shut the girl up more than anything. Red shakes her head as the girl leaves through the front door. Nicky follows afterward, locking the front door and drawing the shades over the windows. She then goes to the corner of the room where she knows the restaurant's surveillance cameras don't catch. Nicky starts going through her pockets, pulls out a glass envelop of pills, a dime sack of weed and a number of small baggies of heroin rubber banded together, laying them out on a table.

"What the fuck, Nicky? Why would you bring this shit into my restaurant!"

"You need to take it because I'll do it if you don't." Nicky grits her teeth, can already feel her eye twitching. She keeps her trembling hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and tries to fight the jittering. "I'd probably do all of it at the same time if you don't take it away."

Red studies her for what feels like a solid minute. "So you aren't high?"

"I thought about it, obviously. I just wanted to feel good after such a shit last few days so I bought the molly, but then I thought, no, I don't need to be any more amped after I drank all those fucking Monsters and smoked a shit ton of cigarettes. So then I thought weed, you know, to calm the fuck down. Then after I bought that, I'm sitting, staring at it all like, why bother with second-string bitches? And I got, well…"

Nicky motions to the heroin, the heavy hitter, the best girlfriend she's ever had. She may not be able to have her first choice with the ruby red lips, but she can always have her first choice in powder form.

"What happened?"

"I just told you, Red. I'm an impulse shopper."

"No, I mean what happened in the last few days?" Red grabs a chair that's hanging halfway off the table and sets it on the floor, motioning Nicky closer. "You aren't like this for no reason. Sit. Tell me."

Nicky does as she's told and sits, but she doesn't start explaining right away. As she waits, Red practices a little patience, gets Nicky a cup of coffee and warms a few of the pastries left in the bakery's display case. Red sits across from Nicky and doesn't say a word as the lost, hurt seventeen-year-old sips her coffee, picks at a Khachapuri and finally spills her heart out onto the bakery floor, telling her mother figure all about how a pretty fucking straight girl broke her heart.

For the last few days, Nicky's been wandering both mentally and physically. She couldn't concentrate in school and found attending pointless so she stopped. The Nichols pay the family doctor enough to prescribe her mother Xanax on the fly; he surely won't mind writing Nicky a doctor's note for the flu. Most of her time has been spent sitting in parks and on rooftops, smoking and wondering why she has to be so fucked up.

_Why can't I just like a hot lesbian girl?_ She asks herself._ Why do I feel this constant need to surround myself with people yet still feel so empty and alone? What's the point of living if the universe has been shitting on me ever since I was fucking born and my own mother could barely stand the sight of me?_ It's just so much. Too fucking much.

"This is all your fault, you know," Nicky says. "Why'd you gotta hire her?"

Red chuckles, but her eyes are full of sympathy. "Because she's pretty and good with people, perfect for front of the house, and I like her lipstick."

"Well, I like a little more than that…" Nicky picks at a particularly difficult piece of dough stuck between her teeth. "I know none of this is Lorna's fault. I'm not mad at her. I'm the one who made things weird and, fuck, why am I like this? I swear I've never been like this over a chick before."

"Because you're usually the one breaking hearts instead of getting your heart broken."

"You don't gotta put it like that, Red."

Red rubs her hand across Nicky's back. "You want me to arrange the schedule so you and Lorna never have to work the same shift ever again?"

"Yes...no...I don't know." Nicky pushes her fingers through her hair, so clearly frustrated with herself. "It's like I sort of never want to see her ever again because I might die of embarrassment if I do, but the idea of never seeing her again makes me feel even worse. I can't even open texts from her. I just deleting 'em because no matter what they say, the fact is she was thinking about me when she hit send and knowing that makes me feel like I shoved my face in a tub of Pop Rocks."

"That's some crush."

"Such a fucking stupid word." Nicky groans and buries her face in her hands. "I just wish I didn't feel this way, you know? It would make life a hell of a lot easier."

"It's life. It's not meant to be easy. Every single human being on the face of this earth has liked someone that did not like them back. Even you, Nicky Nichols, don't think you're immune." Red taps the tip of Nicky's nose and she scoffs, but smiles faintly. "You can't make someone love you in return, but that doesn't mean you're completely powerless to the universe. There are things in your life that you can control and you should take pride in that."

They both look over at the stash of drugs in a neat little line. Nicky slowly stands, grabs each with a certain reverence to her actions and Red follows her to the bathroom. Nicky's hands shake as she takes each out of the packaging and dumps hundreds of dollars worth of drugs into the toilet. Nicky hesitates and her eye twitches even more so than before as she uses the bottom of her boot to flush. She doesn't take a breath until it swirls down and disappears completely. Red is a step behind with her hand on Nicky's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"Of all the places you could have ended up, I'm glad you ended up here," Red says. "You did good, Nicky. Oh, my daughter, you did so good."

Red takes Nicky's face in her hands and looks deep into her eyes, eyes that have seen too much bad too young. Nicky will never know what Red sees in her, what she deems worth saving, but she's glad for it. Nicky takes in this triumph, basking in Red's strong, supportive presence as they embrace.

Nicky's eyes snap open when she feels her pocket vibrating. She pulls her phone out and the photo accompanying the call is one of her and Lorna sitting together, wearing their Dmitri's uniforms. Nicky's eyes are unfocused off in the distance, looking like she would rather be anywhere else at the moment while Lorna makes the silliest (most fucking adorable) face possible.

"She's been calling nonstop," Nicky mutters, rubbing at her eyes.

Red takes the phone and answers it. "Lorna, it's Red. Nicky's here, she's with me at the restaurant." Red pauses a moment, listening to Lorna respond. Something changes in her expression, softens. "Okay, I'll make sure she gets home safe… Yes, I'll drive her home, yes, when she's ready. Now, go to sleep, you have school tomorrow."

Red ends the call and gives the phone back.

"She cares about you," Red says. "Deeply. It might not be the kind of love you want, but it's love nonetheless. If you ask me, it's something worth having."

Nicky leans into Red, who wraps her arm around her.

"You know I consider you one of my own and I love you, even more than my idiot sons most of the time, but you're crazy if you think I'm going to fire that girl because of your little crush gone wrong. She actually listens unlike someone else I know…"

"Thanks, ma," Nicky says with a scoff. After a moment though, Nicky leans into her even more and her voice goes hoarse, sounding almost vulnerable. "Really, thank you, mommy. I love you too."

…

There are a handful of people who know where Nicky hides the spare key to her loft. Alex and Lorna are at the top of the list. After talking to Red, instead of doing as the older woman says, the girls agree to back to Nicky's. It's not like any of them are going to be getting any sleep until they see that Nicky is okay with their own eyes. Before they do, they stop by a little Spanish market and buy ingredients to make quesadillas.

"This Gossip Girl person needs a hobby," Alex says. She's sitting on the kitchen counter near the stove, Piper's phone in her hand, scrolling through the infamous site. "This has to be grounds for stalking. Does Gossip Girl also know every single time each of you takes a shit?"

"Probably steals samples too," Tricia adds with a laugh.

Piper scrunches her nose with disgust. "Okay, you two are disgusting. I'm trying to cook here!"

Alex hops down from the counter and walks up behind Piper, intending to investigate and look over what the blonde has working on the stove. When Alex extends her hand toward the frying pan, Piper swats her away.

"Alex, stop!" Piper cries out, always one for the dramatics without even realizing it. "You can't fiddle with them! You're only supposed to flip them once! I need to time how long they cook on each side!"

"Well, while you're counting, they're burning." Alex easily leans over, sure to let her breasts graze Piper's shoulder blade. Alex reaches into the pan and flips a quesadilla with her bare fingers. "Shit, that's hot!"

"Of course it is," Piper says matter-of-factly. "You can literally see the heat rising from the pan."

"Not what I was talking about, kid."

Piper doesn't respond and undoubtedly starts to turn red. Lorna feels something of a smile on her lips as she observes them from the kitchen table because that whole exchange is just ridiculous and cute and so obviously on the cusp of something more. She doesn't spend too long thinking on it because when Alex calls Piper "kid" it makes Lorna think of Nicky and how often she'd call her that. Crap, is that like a thing with the two of them? Is "kid" like a code word or a term of endearment above and beyond one you'd give a friend? Lorna would ask Alex, but not in front of Piper.

Instead, Lorna looks down at the table where Nicky's Pre-Calculus book is, left untouched since Lorna shut it and suggested they take a break from homework days ago. Lorna has played that afternoon over and over again maybe a million times in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done differently. Not kissed Nicky back maybe? Lorna's frown deepens, not wanting to think of that as an option and not wanting to explore why.

"Hey Chapman," Tricia calls out, interrupting their little flirt fest in front of the stove. The girl with the platinum blonde cornrows sits at the breakfast bar, busy with a pen, writing test answers all up and down her forearms. "You go to school with Mercy, right?"

"Mercy?" Piper's lips pull to one side. "I only know one Mercy. Mercy Val-du-to?" Tricia nods vigorously. "Yeah, we have Women Studies together."

Alex snorts with laughter, the way one laughs at the punch line of a really funny joke. "You're taking a Women Studies class?"

"Yes, it's very informative and empowering," Piper says defensively. "I seriously teared up when we screened Iron Jawed Angels." She then turns her attention back to Tricia. "Why do you ask about Mercy?"

"Tricia's got a big lesbian crush on Mercy," Alex teases. "Despite my sage advice. I'm telling you, Miller, rich bitches like Mercy aren't worth the effort."

"Excuse you!" Piper shouts. "Just because we were born into families a little more well off than some others doesn't mean—"

"I like how you automatically put yourself in the same category as Mercy," Alex cuts in. "Mercy, the snatch tease who has some rich field hockey team captain boyfriend, but also leads Tricia on and got drunk and hooked up with Boo. 'Hooked up' being the polite term because gross."

Piper chokes on her jalapeño quesadilla sauce, brows furrowing. "Mercy hooked up with…with—"

"Yo, Nicky calls Boo the lezzy Jabba the Hutt," Tricia adds.

They all share a laugh and when the front door opens, Piper and Alex pause their flirting and Lorna snaps back to reality. Sometimes she can take walks through her head and venture so deep into her thoughts she's afraid one day she might get lost on her way back. But now, here, she's back in the present and her breath catches in her throat when she sees Nicky walk in, hair frizzier than usual, mascara smeared, so tired.

Alex is the first to approach her, marches right over and grabs Nicky by the chin, looking her right in the eyes. For a tense second that feels like forever, the room is completely silent except for the sizzling of quesadillas in the frying pan.

"You done? Can I have my face back now?" Nicky asks, shooting for humor like always. Alex gives her one last look and finally lets go. Nicky opens and closes her mouth, flexing her jaw. "Jeez, roughing me up, Vause? And with an audience? That a new kink of yours?"

"This isn't a joke, Nichols," Alex says. "Maybe if you answered your fucking phone once in a while! I thought you went AWOL! I had Operation Exorcism all locked and loaded!"

"Well, walking drug test, I'm sober, but I'd gladly hand over a piss sample."

"Nicky!" Piper shouts. "I'm making quesadillas. Come be my guinea pig."

The way Piper is looking at her is that of a puppy happy to see its human companion home at the end of a long workday. Her smile says everything that needs to be said, _I'm glad you're okay and here and aren't high and I'm so proud_. Nicky gives her a look in return that says _shut up_, but then she smirks as she walks through the kitchen, looking at the mess Piper is making and with Alex's assistance.

"Those are some piss poor lookin' quesadillas," Nicky observes. Piper shoulders Nicky playfully, but also tenderly at the same time. "Sure thing, Chapman. Mexican food at one in the morning sounds delightful. I just need to fucking shower first."

Nicky turns to Tricia, who has writing all over her arms, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly. "And what the hell do you think you're doing? You're supposed to write the answers on your thighs and wear a skirt! Have I taught you nothing?"

"Shit, that's a good idea." Tricia looks at her hands and then over at Nicky. "You good?"

"I haven't been good since birth probably. I tore the shit outta that bitch's vag, apparently," Nicky says with a forced laugh. She glances over at Lorna, but doesn't say anything just yet. Nicky then pats down her pockets, pulls out a crumpled carton of cigarettes and a lollipop. "Hey Morello."

Nicky nods to the glass door that leads out to the terrace and Lorna slowly stands from the kitchen table, grabbing her pea coat from off the back of the couch and slipping it on. Nicky holds the lollipop out to Lorna just before they walk out the door together.

Lorna raises an eyebrow. "Marijuana sucker?"

"Unless you know something about Red that I don't. I swiped it off her desk at Dmitri's." Nicky twirls the lollypop stem between her fingers. "Looks like cherry."

Lorna takes the lollipop and walks outside, fiddling with the wrapper and looking out at the surrounding buildings that extend out into the horizon. Nicky's terrace has a gorgeous view of the city and is so high up that you can't hear any of the street noise. So pretty and so quiet, so different from the world Lorna was born into. She sits at the little wooden picnic table and Nicky sits next to her, tapping her crushed box of cigarettes against her palm.

"I've officially been awake for twenty-four hours," Nicky murmurs, more to herself than anything. "Shit. I think I stopped thinking straight seventy-two hours ago."

"I can go," Lorna says quickly, stuttering through it. "I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I can go if you want. I was gonna catch a ride with Vause, but I got my MetroCard too."

"At one in the morning? Are ya crazy? No." Nicky shakes her head and rubs her eyes, knowing her makeup is already fucked anyway. "You have a right to be here as much as Tricia or any of the others. Bring heroin into my loft and you're out. Screw me over and you're out. Not digging my romantic advances because of your sexual orientation and Christopher obsession isn't a good enough reason for eviction."

"Nicky…"

"Wait, I've got something to say." Nicky holds her hand up to stop her and Lorna nods, sticking the lollypop into her mouth to shut her up. Nicky takes the last cigarette out of the carton and nervously fiddles with it between her fingers. "Remember what I said to you that first night? We were sitting right here."

"Not to lie to you," Lorna replies with the lollypop between her cheek and teeth.

Nicky nods hard, tapping the end of her cigarette against the edge of the table that's littered with scorch marks. "You know why I like you so much?"

Lorna shakes her head. "Honestly, I got no clue."

Nicky's lips pull to one side in a smirk that quickly disappears when she catches herself. "You're just not a liar. At least, as far as I can tell you don't lie to me. And you actually give a damn. Other than Vause and maybe Chapman, if I got trashed and said, hey, we should do some heroin, all of those others who show up on my doorstep for a party, they'd say, yeah, let's go. You pay, Nichols. I'll catch the next one…and never pay for shit ever. But not you and that's how I know I can trust you."

They're quiet for a while and Lorna wishes they could hear the street noises below. The last few days aside, Lorna can't remember a time where silence between Nicky and her had been anything less than comfortable. She doesn't know what to say so she doesn't say anything, resigned to her fate, tracing circles around the lollipop with her tongue.

"It sucks that you don't wanna hook up because I have a sneaking suspicion that you'd be a decent lay, but it'd suck more to not hang out anymore," Nicky says. Lorna can't help the way she stares because this is the first time she's ever seen Nicky Nichols less than her flirty, confident self. She's seen her vulnerable before, especially in moments involving her mother, but never like this.

"So," Nicky says, "friends?"

Lorna smiles widely. "I wasn't aware we stopped being friends."

Nicky sets her cigarette between her lips, more relaxed now than seconds ago. "But I gotta warn you, friends doesn't mean I'm gonna lie to you about your shitty essays."

"I wouldn't dream of it! Just so you know, I got an A on that Grand Gatsby paper."

"_Great_ Gatsby!" Nicky shouts. "He's _great_! Jesus, and this right here is everything wrong with the public school system! Your teacher probably thought, do I really wanna see Morello in summer school? Nah, I'll just pass her."

"Fuck you," Lorna says, but it's filled with affection and relief. "You know, you really scared me these last few days."

"Yeah, well, I scared myself too," Nicky mutters. "Red was surprisingly kind, but come our shift tomorrow night, Jesus, I'm probably in for it. On top of all that, she found out I've been feeding the leftovers to that one-eyed stray dog that hangs out behind Dmitri's, which means we gotta be sneakier about it…yeah."

And this is the part post-Nicky's twitchy rambling where Lorna would hug her and nuzzle into her shoulder and Nicky would pretend she doesn't need a hug or make a joke, but would never pull away. But things are different now, like something broke between them even though they're sitting together, facing each other, desperate to act like nothing is different even though everything is. The silence dies when laughter from inside fills the air.

"What is Chapman even doing here?" Nicky asks.

"Making quesadillas. I'd say she's half worried about ya and half jumping at the opportunity to spend time with Vause. It's disgustingly cute is what it is."

"Leave it to Vause to turn my existential crisis into a way to spend time with my lab partner." Nicky laughs weakly. "And it sounds like it's working. Who would've thought Piper Chapman, lost in transition, lesbian in the making? Yeah, if anyone can turn 'em it's Alex…" Nicky pulls a cheap, corner store plastic lighter out of her pocket. "Alright, I'm gonna smoke this and then go wash my mane."

Nicky curses when she strikes her thumb against the wheel and the lighter sparks, but produces no flame. She tries again with the same results. Lorna reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls out a sleek silver Zippo lighter and leans closer to light Nicky's cigarette for her.

Nicky raises an eyebrow. "Is that mine?"

"Yeah, your favorite one."

"Why do you have it?" Nicky takes a long, slow drag. "You don't even smoke."

The dark-haired girl chews on the cherry candy between her teeth and looks up at the sky, suddenly so shy. "I kinda swiped it the other day. Just in case you didn't want anything to do with me anymore I wanted something to remember you by."

Lorna swears she could tell Nicky that she murdered someone and Nicky would just grin like it's the cutest thing she's ever heard, like she is now. A week ago, Lorna thought it was Nicky's way of teasing her on top of all the other ways she teases her, but now, maybe it was one of the biggest signs of them all.

"You know who else does that, Morello? Serial killers. They take trophies, body parts of their victims and shit." Nicky playfully nudges Lorna with her shoulder. Lorna rolls her eyes and tries to hand the lighter back, but Nicky shakes her head no. "Nah, keep it, you maniac." Nicky gently takes the lighter from Lorna's fingers and tucks it back into her coat pocket. She takes another long pull of her cigarette before putting it out and tossing the bud into a ceramic cat ashtray on the table. "Shit, it's late. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Fuck it, I get A's on my essays, remember?" Lorna starts to stand alongside Nicky. "I'll make sure they save some quesadillas for you, meaning they look questionable so I'm gonna wait for you to taste 'em before I do."

"Yeah, I'm sure God put me on this here earth to taste test your food for you," Nicky says sarcastically. Before she can push past the glass door, Lorna grabs her by the leather of her jacket and tugs until Nicky looks at her from over her shoulder.

"Nichols, we're okay, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're cool. And guard those quesadillas with your life. I could literally eat anything right now. Other than cleaning out Red's leftovers over at Dmitri's, I haven't eaten since…shit…breakfast yesterday."

As she watches Nicky walk ahead of her, back inside, Lorna regrets not hugging her almost as much as she doesn't regret kissing her back.

…

"You made out with Hascowitz and took her to Red's? And you weren't even drunk or high?" Alex falls back until her spine hits the edge of the kitchen counter, unable to control her laughter. "Gross. Boo has gone down on that."

"Shut up, Vause! I know!" Nicky snaps. She's fresh out of the shower, drowning in an old Nirvana shirt, her hair still wet and face free of makeup. "Hey, what's Hascowitz's first name again?"

"Who cares!" Alex continues to laugh. "Boo referred to it as _making love_—"

"Jesus!" Nicky grabs a bowl from the cupboard and slams the door unnecessarily hard. When she glances up at one of her best and tallest friends, Nicky can't help, but notice how Alex's eyes are across the room, watching Lorna and Tricia try to teach Piper how to play Mario Karts for the first time.

"She was really worried about you, you know," Alex says. "Lorna. She turned down Christopher for you."

Nicky is about to pour Cheerios into her bowl, but stops with a spoon hanging down from her mouth. "Whaaa?"

"Yeah, Mr. Knit Sweater Lover wanted to talk to his 'number one fan' about 'the band.' That plus the yellow glow stick he was sporting spells revenge sex in the warehouse stairwell. And Lorna said no to help us look for your Hascowitzing ass."

"Quit it." Nicky pours cereal into her bowl and when a few pieces spill onto the counter she picks them up and tosses them into her mouth. "Morello and I are just friends."

Alex hums and turns her gaze to the painting on the wall, the one with a high-tech safe hidden behind it like in a movie. "So you dipped behind the _la douleur exquise_ I see."

Alex's French is fairly good. She's skipped too many French classes to count when she was in high school, but she's also done some traveling. Definitely better than every one of Nicky's attempts. Fuck French class, man. She can't help her natural fucking accent, okay?

"That painting's a stupid fucking creepy thing," Nicky mutters. She grabs the milk from the refrigerator and takes a whiff beforehand just to be safe. "I'm looking to sell it or maybe trade it in for a replica of The Nereides instead. Three sexy, naked mythical creatures grinding on each other underwater would better suit this place I think."

Alex laughs, watching Nicky pour milk as if pouring a drink. "I bet you make it a point to throw shit like that into casual conversation to make you feel better about wasting time in your fancy prep school's useless as fuck Art History Honors class, right?"

"Fuck you." Nicky shoves the milk carton back into the refrigerator and bumps it closed with her hip. "The teacher being a total babe was worth it."

"Nah, you'll never be able to part with that painting," Alex says surely. "And you shouldn't have to. It's beautiful in a stupid, fucking creepy way."

"Fuck off." Nicky stirs a metal spoon through her cereal before taking a huge bite. With her mouth full, Nicky mumbles, "Hey, thanks for not actually mentioning it…"

"Mentioning what?"

Nicky's lips pull to one side in a smile and Alex shakes her head with a smile of her own. This is the basis of their friendship, knowing and getting each other to the point where words aren't necessary, just understanding between them.

"So, Morello and I are friends," Nicky says again, as if saying it over and over and out loud will make it true. "Which I clearly can't say about you and Chapman. You two look downright domestic giggling in the kitchen earlier. Are you seriously choosing not to learn from my fuckup?"

"You know me."

"What about Sylvia?" Nicky raises her eyebrows. "Not that I'm complaining, that miserable bitch is no fun and hates hanging out with us, but Chapman also identifies as not-lesbian and has a boyfriend. You're the very one who told me not to chase straight skirt and mine is just a slightly delusional potential serial killer that fantasizes about marrying an all boys school band geek."

Knowing Alex as well as she does, Nicky inwardly curses, sure her friend picked up on that pesky _mine_ that slipped in there. If she finds it cause for worry, Alex doesn't mention it, at least not right now. Alex knows Nicky just as well and if she needs to deflect to get through the rest of the night, she'll let her. Plus, everyone knows (and Chapman will eventually learn) that the tough love is best left up to Red anyway.

"Don't fall in love with a straight girl," Alex says. "Most broken gay rule ever."

"Love? Let's not get crazy here, Vause."

"Fall fast, fall hard. I don't know how to play the game any other way," Alex says coolly. "C'mon, I would challenge you to a quesadilla eating contest, but, honestly, I don't know how many of them are actually edible."

"I heard that!" Piper shouts without thinking. She immediately goes rigid, probably with a monster blush creeping up, and none of this situation is made better by the loud, boisterous way Nicky laughs.

"By the way, you two suck at whispering!" Lorna shouts across the room. Her eyes are on the flat screen, controller in hand, biting on the tip of her tongue as she continues to race even though Piper is too distracted from the game to have a chance.

"Who says we were trying to whisper?" Alex shouts back.

They're all too hopped up on adrenalin collected over the course of the night to sleep so instead, Nicky eats cereal and watches Alex, Tricia and Lorna reach a terrifying level of competitive playing Mario Karts. So much so that she has to put her bowl down, rip the controllers away and scold them like children before the neighbors call the cops (for the umpteenth time). They end up watching whatever on Netflix and Nicky thinks that maybe she can do this on a more regular basis, just hang out with real friends and without illegal substances in her system. Maybe.

As they watch the movie, the room lit only by the glow of the TV, Alex falls asleep first. Her head starts to droop until it lands and stays on Piper's shoulder. Nicky fails to hide her smirk and Lorna's even worse at holding back her giggles, especially when Alex moans in her sleep and shifts so that her arm is stretched across Piper, snuggling into her. Piper tries to stay as still as possible while also trying to relax, keeping her breathing even, not wanting to disturb Alex.

Lorna, the second to fall asleep, has the reclining chair all to herself. Only when she's sure Lorna's really, deeply asleep does Nicky let herself stare for longer than a second. Nicky put on the strongest front she could muster out on the terrace, but honestly, just looking at Lorna hurts so fucking much and yet, Nicky never wants to stop. This self-inflicted internal torture makes Nicky wish she didn't go to Red, wish she was high right now so she wouldn't feel everything she's feeling, the intensity of the unrequited. Nicky knows she did the right thing, but there's never a guarantee that the right right thing feels good.

When it's nearly light outside, Nicky shuts off the TV and drags herself up off her end of the couch. She grabs two blankets from the hall closet, carelessly tosses one at Alex and Piper while delicately laying the other over Lorna, who looks extra tiny, curled up the way she is. Nicky feels Piper watching as she does this and can't resist making one last snarky comment.

"You take _it's complicated_ to a whole new level, don't you, Chapman?"

"If I could move my arms, I'd be flipping you off right now," Piper whisper-hisses.

Then a shockingly clear, not sleepy at all Alex shushes them. "Could you two keep it down?" she asks. "You're really killing the moment here."

Piper looks down at Alex with wide eyes while the girl with the sexy glasses smiles cheekily. Nicky doesn't wait to see how that pans out, just laughs at the Classic Alex Vause Move and heads to her room, calling out a, "Goodnight, not-lesbians!" from over her shoulder.

…

_Spotted: Queen P with her new posse consisting of the Rockabilly Babe and the Jersey Shhhwhore. Still no sign of N. And what is that on our Queen's wrist? In a game of Red Light, Green Light, P is sporting the in-between. Does this mean things are slowing down with Pie Fucker or about to speed up and crash? _

_UPDATE: N tweeted this gem moments ago…_

A close-up photo. One hand holds up a home drug test—negative—while the other hand features an erect middle finger.

_That's the Nichols way it seems, proving us wrong when we least expect it. Maybe some people really can change…but sustaining change? How long before the cookie really does crumble? You know who'll be here when it finally does. Until then. You know you love me. _

_Xoxo_

_Gossip Girl_

* * *

**Author's note:** I like a slow burn. Can you tell? In the next installment (if there is one) prepare for Gossip Girl to do some actual damage along with the Headfuck Breakfast Club when they crash a swanky Upper East Side social event.

More importantly, I just wanna say the response to this AU is really unexpected and the exact kind of crazy I love. Thanks for all the reviews and all the cool shit y'all leave on my Tumblr. We have a good time over there, lol. You're all making it really hard to walk away from this... Send me your thoughts and I'll reply!

**Fun fact:** 1) La douleur exquise: French: literally "exquisite pain" the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can never have. It refers specifically to the emotional experience of the one whose love is not being reciprocated. 2) the painting in Nicky's loft is probably one of Christian Birmingham's Little Mermaid illustrations in oil paint form.


	3. Mask On, Mask Off

**Disclaimer: **I don't own shit.

**AN**: shout out to **Silverm** and that one **Guest **who asked about a Lorna-centered chapter and caught my hints at her less than satisfying home life. Without the inspiration I drew from your reviews this probably would not have been written. I so appreciate everyone's reviews and being so chill about the wait. People still into this? Well, let's go.

* * *

**Mask On, Mask Off**

_Gossip Girl here. Well, isn't the kingdom abuzz?_

_The annual Masquerade Ball, yet another benchmark in the UES dynasty, is fast approaching. As with the medieval court of days past, a masquerade allows a class governed by a rigorous standard of excellence and etiquette to engage in a night of gluttony, lust and overall sin beneath a literal mask of anonymity. In theory, a cloak of disguise provides a leveled playing field for nobleman and servant to mingle almost as equals if only for a night. _

_So who's ready to waltz? More importantly, who's riding the struggle carriage without a gown or a date? We're ready for the freeing fashion frenzy of the century. Are you?_

…

By some miracle, Piper has been able to successfully avoid any and all snobby social obligations for the last few months. It's starting to look like the upcoming masquerade extravaganza is about to kill her streak.

As all the other Constance girls celebrate the end of another taxing school day, Piper stares blankly at the decorated inside of her locker. At the center of a collage is a photo of her and Larry on the beach in the Hamptons a summer ago. He's sweet, if scatterbrained, and they've been together since he was assigned to be her escort at Cotillion. Just as she starts to question her relationship (and sexuality, honestly) Piper's phone buzzes against the bottom of her metal locker with a flood of new texts.

The first makes Piper smile. It's from Morello, asking if they can meet up later today. The second makes her roll her eyes—her mother's assistant, Eliqua—warning Piper that she "best be getting a dress and mask for the dumb ass ball" (Eliqua's words exactly) before Mrs. Chapman has an aneurism.

"Are you excited for the masquerade or what?" Polly asks, popping out from nowhere in a way only she can. "I've had my gown on reserve for months! If yours looks anything like mine I swear I will kill you, bitch."

"Don't remind me." Piper shuts her locker before they start walking down the hallway toward the front of the school. "I still need to scrounge up an outfit. Ooh, text me pictures of yours just to be sure."

"I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the part where Piper Chapman isn't prepared for a soiree. Where've you been lately, P?"

Piper nearly stops in her tracks, hit hard with hazy memories of sucking Jello shots out of little plastic cups at Nicky's loft and listening to Alex passionately judge different ales in the back of a filthy bar as an awful band plays on a dirty stage for a punk crowd. Piper thinks she's starting to build a tolerance for the stuff even if everyone laughs and points, threatening to Instagram her reaction every first taste. It might have been peer pressure in the beginning. She'd do a shot to shut Nicky up, but Piper's come to welcome that bit of fuzziness around her brain, how all her troubles slip away and everything around her is suddenly funnier than it was an hour ago.

"Hey Chapman!" Pete Harper shouts as he snuffs out a cigarette against the front gate. He's with Christopher, Lorna's sweater-wearing bagpipe-loving crush Christopher as they hang out just off Constance Billard property.

Pete Harper, St. Jude's newest transfer and the frontman of the bagpipes band, has "new money" written all over him. His business tycoon father invented the prototype for those sports shoes with the toes and his newest stepmother is a former model. Though his last name is also Harper, there's no familial relation between Polly and Pete (that anyone knows about), which is good because if they were related that would make Polly's giant crush on him pretty creepy.

"Piper!" Pete shouts again. "Tell this wanker that his bagpipes suck! He thinks it's the heart of the band. Can you believe this fucking son of leprechauns?"

"McLaren," Christopher hisses. "My family's Scottish, asshole."

Piper has never actually had a real conversation with the tall, lanky Christopher despite being in the same place at the same time almost weekly. All she really has to go off of is all the gushy stuff Morello says about him and the way Nicky tenses whenever the guy's name comes up and Alex's passionate hatred toward their band. From what Piper's seen so far, the guy is a grade-A snob and acts like one too.

"I admire your attempt to be different," Piper says. "Who else has bagpipes in their band? _But_ different is only good when it doesn't totally suck and, well…"

The guys stare at the blonde, totally lost.

"She's agreeing with Pete," Polly translates.

When Pete jumps up and thrusts his fist into the air, his uniform shirt rises just a bit, almost making Polly swoon at the bit of skin on sight. Meanwhile, Christopher rolls his eyes and turns up his nose in disagreement.

"Don't worry, man." Pete, the touchy feely type, pats and then rubs Christopher's chest. "No matter what anyone says about your bagpipes, you'll always have your little groupie. Piper, you hang out with her. What's her name?"

"If you're talking about Morello you should probably shut the fuck up," Piper says, "especially before Nicky overhears or finds out you're talking about our friend."

Christopher throws his hands up in frustration. "I never ask for her to try and make awkward conversation and follow me around all the time! As her friend, could you tell her to stop? Especially now since Angela and I are back together. _Someone_ already told her I was talking to your friend at the rave."

Pete does a terrible job at hiding the way he snickers.

"Dating a girl from Chaplin," Polly hums. "We shouldn't even be talking to you."

Pete tosses his head back with a full on laugh and slaps Christopher on the shoulder, probably a little harder than intended. His eyes then fall on Polly who nervously twists from side to side and returns his stare.

"You ladies going to the masquerade?" Pete asks.

"Who isn't?" Polly elbows Piper playfully. "I hear Larry has a little something-something planned for this one."

Piper looks up at the clear blue sky, avoiding the teasing look from Polly and the wolf whistle from Pete. Christopher has already tuned them all out, fiddling with his phone. He mutters something about how they're going to be late though Pete can't stop sneaking looks at Polly.

"Alright, alright. Well, I guess we'll see you at the ball, ladies." Pete coolly throws his jacket over one shoulder as he and Christopher start walking down the street, but not before throwing Polly one last inviting glance and a wink. Polly continues to stare after them even after the boys disappear around the corner.

"Did you see that?" Polly asks excitedly. "I'm making that mine."

"Oh, nauseating." Piper can't help, but be honest.

Polly bumps her best friend with her hip. "Come on! You and Larry have been together so long I think you've forgotten the joys of chasing boys." As they head to the library, Polly watches Piper closely. "Hey, are you and Larry doing okay?"

"Yeah, fine. We've both been really busy, you know, doing our own thing with school, extra curriculars and family drama. The usual. Maybe this masquerade _is_ a good thing. Larry and I can finally have some time to ourselves, act like an actual couple."

"Well, I have it on good authority that Larry has something wildly romantic planned for you!"

"I won't get my hopes up. He always means well, but he _is_ Larry after all."

Polly hugs her books tight to her chest and gives Piper a look that makes her feel guilty upon impact. "You don't give him enough credit. The poor schmuck is hopelessly devoted to you."

Hopelessly devoted is a bit of a stretch, but Piper doesn't mention it aloud. Knowing Polly, she's just going to make her feel worse. If hopelessly devoted means always jumping to please her then, sure, Larry's that. He might not be one of those people who make your brain melt simply by existing, more every day average, but he's who she always thought she'd date, someone reliable, who her parents approve of. It isn't a whirlwind love affair, but stable and easy. Piper knows she can always count on Larry to be there when needed and there's something attractive about that.

At least, that's what Piper continues to tell herself.

…

Of all the boroughs, Lorna Morello knows Brooklyn and Queens like the back and front of her hand. She only really started commuting into Manhattan since meeting Nicky and the lifestyle that comes along with her.

Imagine Lorna's surprise when Piper suggests they meet in a chic boutique. She finds Piper inside with her iPhone between her cheek and shoulder, arguing with whoever's on the other end. Right away Lorna feels out-of-place, pulling her sweater tighter around her body, wearing her Dmitri's uniform underneath. When Piper waves her dainty fingers in hello, Lorna bobs awkwardly and waves in return. As Piper continues her phone conversation, something about refusing to wear a corset, Lorna takes a look around the shop.

It's spacious and thoughtfully lit in a way that highlights the clothes and jewelry on display. Lorna lets her fingertips trail across a rack of dresses, swearing she can feel how the silk and sequin are more expensive than anything she's ever touched before. Her large doe eyes are drawn to the glass showcase in absolute awe.

"Hello, my dear!" an older, flamboyant gentleman greets Lorna from behind the counter. "Let me guess, you're here to find a few accessories to complete your masquerade ensemble? Well, you have come to the right place! I have the perfect thing for you!"

As the man talks with exaggerated hand movements, so genuinely enthusiastic, Lorna's throat goes dry and her joints lock up. She can't move or speak, simply watches as the salesman pulls out a black velvet box from behind the counter. With careful, gloved hands, he removes a remarkable diamond tennis bracelet. Lorna's eyes go even wider as the strategically placed ceiling lights catch the round cut diamonds and make them sparkle. Honestly, in Lorna's very humble opinion, this bracelet puts the necklace from Titanic to shame.

"Would you like to try it on?"

"Oh no, no, I couldn't—"

"Think of doing anything but!" Piper adds, sliding up to her side. The blonde bumps Lorna with her shoulder and smiles encouragingly. "She'd love to try it on along with your finest dresses."

"Uh—"

"Fabulous!" the man cheers. He gently takes Lorna's wrist and clasps the bracelet around her before sighing dreamily. "Just as I suspected. It looks incredible on you and fits like a dream!"

"Perfect," Piper agrees. "You don't have anywhere to be, do you, Morello? I just saw a gown that would look so beautiful on you."

"I don't exactly have an occasion to wear this sorta stuff," Lorna says coyly. She lifts her arm and admires the bracelet, feeling like she's living in a dream. "And I can't even afford to touch any of this stuff."

"It's just for fun," Piper insists. "Come on! We can talk and play dress up at the same time."

When Piper thrusts a frilly dress into her arms, Lorna can't resist. They pick out different outfits for each other and try on dress after dress, mixing and matching different garments with different masks. Lorna spins in a short, strapless dress in front of a three-panel mirror and snaps a selfie with her crappy phone with a smiley face drawn on it in nail polish. As Piper tries on her own dress, lace and floor-length with an intricate neckline, Lorna takes a picture of the bracelet still around her wrist and gasps when she realizes what time it is.

"Shit!" Lorna curses. "I gotta get back to work."

Piper drops the ivory stick mask away from her face and turns to Lorna, alarmed. "You're supposed to be at work right now?"

"I drove the delivery van to run a few errands for Red. I do it all the time."

Lorna's ready to hustle back to the curtained area of their private dressing room, but one of the masks laid out on the plush couch catches her eye. As if in a trance, Lorna walks over and lifts the mask into her hands. It's a lion mask, leather and hand-painted with shades of orange, gold and touches of black.

"This would look perfect on Nichols, right?" Lorna muses.

Piper laughs. "She definitely has the perfect hair for it. I asked Nicky about going to the masquerade and she laughed right in my face, which I should probably be use to by now. What about you? I'm sure it isn't too late for my mother to get you on the guest list."

"Oh no, no, I work, but thank you. It's nice of you to offer, Chapman. All of this is real nice of you."

"Any time," Piper says with a warm smile. "Why did you want to meet up again?"

"Oh! Nicky's birthday is comin' up. Knowing her, she'd just want to sit around, drink beer and eat ice cream cake at the loft, but I told Alex we should do something nice for her. Can't say I'm surprised Vause's one suggestion is you get in on the planning."

Lorna can't fight the smile that curls the corners of her red lips even though she can see the start of an embarrassed blush on Piper's cheeks. Lorna knows for a fact that Piper and Alex don't talk about what's between them even though all of their friends and they themselves know it's something worth exploring. Regardless of all the complications, Lorna thinks they're cute together and they'd be even cuter together as a couple.

There was a time where the very idea of two girls getting physical made Lorna uncomfortable, probably thanks to the endless commentary the her family provided. It is yet another thing that's changed since meeting Nicky.

"Absolutely!" Piper clasps her hands, thrilled. "I love surprise parties!"

"Course you do."

Lorna skips over to the changing area, tracing the intricate white gold detailing of the tennis bracelet with the tip of her index finger.

…

"Of course not! Fuck that, Red!" Nicky drops a heavy box onto the metal counter in the back of Dmitri's squished, humid kitchen. She scratches at the hairnet straining to contain her thick curls and defying science by momentarily succeeding. "I am not serving food to my asshole classmates and their snobby, asshole families at some asshat party!"

Red drops the two boxes in her arm onto the countertop with an angry thump. The fierce Russian matriarch gives Nicky a look so sharp it could physically cut. "You aren't proud to be working here?"

"Aw ma, you know I am." Nicky's shoulders slump and her eyes soften almost apologetically. "But those bitches I go to school with are cruel and I've got another year and two months in that hell," Nicky says softly. "No way I give a shit about what they say, but life's easier when they don't have shit _to_ say."

Red stares at her long enough to make Nicky feel the need to fidget. Where do you think Nicky learned that little trick?

"Fine," Red says, "as long as you can find someone to fill in as a server. I've already got Gina, Norma, Lorna and the boys working the event."

"Whoever I swindle into taking my shift, they need working papers?"

"It's only a one time thing, I hope," Red replies. "I'll just cut you the check and you pay your replacement."

"Is there a hair code?"

Red lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Does it get any worse than yours?"

"Hilarious, mommy."

Red pinches Nicky's cheek, but it only lasts a millisecond before Nicky jerks away with mock annoyance. Red's lips curve slightly, a smirk in the making, but her eyes are maternal. Just then, Lorna pushes into the kitchen with the biggest, happy-go-lucky smile, singing like she's always singing, shrill and off-key.

Nicky shakes out her shoulders, sinking down into her indifferent, annoyed façade. "Hey Morello, where the hell have you been while the rest of us were, oh, _working_?"

"I went on a run for Red," Lorna replies defensively. "You got a problem, Nichols?"

Nicky just needs a distraction and Lorna makes it clear that she isn't willing to be her plaything in that regard either. Not to mention Lorna clearly isn't happy to have Nicky ruin her mood and pull her out of whatever fantasy is playing in her head.

"Don't you two start," Red warns. "Not today. I already have a migraine. My idiot husband agreeing to cater some fancy smancy party without even consulting me _and_ we can't do Russian! What does he expect?"

"Martha Stewart probably," Nicky replies.

Red looks ready to smack Nicky upside the head so Lorna steps in with the keys to the delivery van and a thick envelope stuffed to the max. Red takes both and gives Lorna's shoulder a squeeze before moving along to the other side of the kitchen. Nicky starts peeling potatoes, blatantly ignoring the way Lorna leans across the counter and shamelessly stares at her.

"You know, Nichols, if you _finally_ got around to getting your drivers license _maybe_ Red would let you take the van for a spin too."

Red snorts with laughter in a way that's very much _a like that's ever going to happen license or no license. _

"This is frickin' New York City!" Nicky shouts, exaggerated hand movements and all. "I get around just fine."

"Yeah, with your fancy driver." Lorna picks up a potato and a spare peeler, but before she can even think to start, Red walks by and takes both away from her.

"You are strictly front of the house," Red says firmly. "I don't need any more smiling faces carved into the produce thank you very much."

"Yeah," Nicky says snottily. "Strictly front of the house."

Lorna pouts, anxiously twisting her fingers together. "I just thought to be helpful."

There's a pounding on the back door and when they look down the short, narrow hallway there's a dark-haired girl waiting just outside, visibly impatient, but hot enough that she can get away with it.

"Nicky! Nicky!"

"Jesus fuck," Nicky mutters. Red isn't happy about this and Nicky knows with the glare her othermother shoots her. Everyone knows not to bring personal matters to work. Nicky drops what she's doing and pulls off her silicone gloves before heading to the screen door. "Babe, what the hell did I say about dropping by when I'm working?"

Lorna can't help herself and sneaks glances at Nicky's newest flavor of the week. She pretends to be interested in the boxes on the counter, running her fingers along the rough cardboard, but then her eyes flicker over to the hot girl whose face doesn't light up when she sees Nicky. Lorna thinks it definitely should.

Nicky doesn't notice Lorna observing from afar because her back is to the kitchen and Lorna might not even realize what she's doing, but Red is very aware. The look in her eyes is probably irritation, wondering why she hired children to work for her, but it could also be apprehension. Red may have raised all boys, but she knows the drama that tends to plague teenage girls.

"Lorna," Red calls out. The petite girl literally jumps and quickly turns to Red with a bright, alert smile. "Do you really want to help?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright. Wash your hands and do exactly as I do."

Lorna nods eagerly and does as instructed. She can be a little awkward and clumsy at times, but she's nothing if not determined. Red's hands move so swiftly and with such ease. Lorna does her best to follow along. On some subconscious level, Lorna really is happy to have something to occupy her time and headspace.

"This masquerade ball is big deal stuff," Red explains. "Some of the most important people in Manhattan, hell, in the whole country are going to be there. Everything needs to be perfect so we're going to practice till we get it all right."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Everyone loves your food, Red! Best in Queens. Best in the country."

Moments like this remind Red why she bothers with the girl. Despite how they go from flirting to bickering in a matter of seconds is surely an annoyance, but Lorna is such a positive presence and brings light to the restaurant. When Red looks over to her other daughter of sorts, Nicky is busy sweet-talking the brunette through the screen door. Lorna glances over when Red does, but immediately re-focuses on the task at hand.

"I bet the whole ball is going to be amazing." Lorna sighs wistfully. "I wish I could attend instead of work. Not that I don't wanna work for you, Red! I love working here. But then there's Nichols who won't be attending or working. If I were her, I'd have my dress and my mask all reserved and altered to fit just right and maybe order some new shoes online."

"The grass is always greener on the other side. Don't ever forget that." The Russian woman looks over and Nicky is still taking her sweet time, proving at least some of the talk about her. "Any day now, Nicky!"

Nicky quickly says goodbye and walks back to the prep area. "What can I say? Chick can't get enough of me." She swings the cabinet door back and peers inside. "Ma, we're running low on those whole hand cooking condoms."

"You're going to the ball," Red says firmly.

Nicky's face drops and she nearly drops the silicone gloves. "What? No."

"That wasn't a suggestion. You don't want to work the event, fine. But all your friends are either working or attending. The last thing any of us need is you left to your own devices unsupervised."

"I don't need babysitting, Red."

"C'mon, Nichols! It'll be fun!" Lorna shouts. "Chapman has got this mask on reserve just incase you change your mind. I think you'll really like it and I can live vinecariously through ya."

"What?" Nicky blinks, then realizes. "It's _vicariously_."

Lorna looks very seriously for a moment, poking the potato peeler in Nicky's direction. "Yeah, then tell me what's the point of Vine? Videos that let you experience someone else doing something stupid without actually causing yourself bodily harm."

"Jesus Christ, Morello. Those are two completely unrelated things."

"How many times do I have to warn you two to quit it in one day?" Red intervenes. Lorna lowers her head and continues to peel potatoes as Nicky tugs on a glove until it snaps. "If you don't want to dress up and enjoy the food your family slaved over then I guess I could always use another server," Red sings in a wavering voice that's probably as close to singsong as the woman gets.

Nicky grumbles beneath her breath and slaps on the second glove. "Just don't expect me to wear one of those god-awful period piece of shit dresses."

Red grins triumphantly and Lorna can't help, but giggle as Nicky gets back to work.

…

By the time Lorna gets home from work, the Morello house is dark and eerily quiet.

Her dad works night shifts and her mom, who's been bedridden going on a year now, is probably already asleep. Though it's nice that the TV isn't pushing max volume and her dad isn't shouting at whichever wide receiver dropped the ball this time, it also makes Lorna apprehensive. Though it's nice to come home to less chaos than usual, their dad's absence almost always means her siblings are up to no good.

When Lorna walks inside, the TV is on, perpetually playing ESPN, the only light and sound in the house. Beer bottles and glasses and cans are all over the coffee table along with empty bags of chips and jerky and a half-eaten brownie. Mikey is passed out on the couch, one arm hanging off, still in his work uniform. The first thing Lorna does is shut the TV off and kick her brother's muddy shoes off of their grandmother's shag rug, the only thing the woman had to leave them in her will.

"Mikey, is that a pot brownie? You know what happened last time dad caught you bringing that shit into the house and drinking all his beer. Mikey!"

Lorna gives his shoulder a shove, but it's no use. His work schedule is almost as bad as their dad's and his backpack is carelessly left on the ground, a week's worth of untouched homework stuffed inside. Honestly, it'd be a miracle if he didn't have to repeat senior year. That drastically increase the likelihood of Lorna and Mikey being in the same grade, taking the same classes and just the idea makes her sick with embarrassment.

Underage drinking isn't exactly unheard of in the Morello house. They live with an _out of sight, out of mind_ mentality. Their dad drinks so often he wouldn't be able to tell if there's more or less empty beer bottles, just slaps Franny with a crumpled twenty and sends her to buy another case from the corner store. Lorna takes the empty bottles to the kitchen, lining them up with the others near the sink. There's a post-it stuck on the microwave that says:

_Nuke it. Mom ate. Do homework. –Dad_

He tries. He really does. In his own quiet, detached way, he tries to be a good parent. He didn't ask for his wife to get sick or to have kids that aren't exactly geniuses and find themselves mixed up with trouble more often than not. If he isn't working nights then he's sleeping or picking up shifts at one of the neighborhood's many pizzerias. His one escape is watching his TV programs. Lorna has her own escapes, though she hasn't been hanging around Nicky's as much.

Lorna pops the microwave door open and inside is a tray of lasagna. She pulls it out and grabs a plate and knife. As she cuts herself a piece, Lorna starts humming and it quickly turns to singing, high-pitch and with such gusto.

"You can't sing for shit, can you?"

An arm hugs her around the waist from behind and Lorna's instincts kick in quick. She thrashes until she's free and slides into attack mode, holding the steak knife at the ready. Little things her brothers have said to her about street smarts and self-defense flood her mind. Lorna hears a bellowing laugh and sees a bulky man with the buzzed head, probably in his twenties, only wearing a pair of sweatpants. He'd probably be considered good-looking if not for his smarmy smile and dark, beady eyes.

"Calm down, kid! Look at you, little Lorna Morello."

Lorna doesn't relax, not by a long mile, just grips the knife even tighter. It feels wrong, this person being in her house at night. It _is_ wrong. On top of all that wrongness, someone calling her _kid_ other than family or Nicky almost makes her angry.

"Don't fucking touch me," Lorna says shakily, wagging the knife. "If my dad catches you here…"

"Well, your pops ain't here, is he?"

Lorna watches his every move as Buzz Cut goes to the refrigerator and yanks it open. He whistles to himself and rummages through shelves as if he has a right to, as if this is his house.

"Why are you here all the time?" Lorna asks. "I thought Franny dumped your ass a long time ago."

"Morellos talk a good game, but when the chips are down and money's tight…" He laughs. "Your sister had a couple parking tickets that needed to disappear. You know what I'm saying. I know you aren't as innocent as you look…"

Buzz Cut leans against the refrigerator door and throws Lorna an appraising look, looking her up and down, sucking on the inside of his cheek. Nothing about this feels okay. It feels far from safe. If she hadn't fucked things up with Nicky, Lorna would be out the door by now and on her way into Manhattan.

"Check out that ice," Buzz Cut coos, slowly approaching her. Lorna grips the handle of the knife until it hurts and leaves imprints in her hand. Buzz Cut takes her free arm and inspects the diamond tennis bracelet hanging off her wrist. "Who'd you fuck to get that? Damn, little Lorna Morello."

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Lorna tears her hand away and turns, pulling the sleeve of her sweater down over the bracelet so her sister won't see. Franny rushes into the kitchen and goes to stand between the two, her arms folded and her back to Lorna. Franny can't shield her sister from a lot in life, but she tries and does so fiercely. Despite Franny's valiant attempt, they all know who has the power here.

"What? I'm just chatting with your sister," Buzz Cut replies. "I remember in high school when I'd come to pick you up for school dances and shit, little Lorna Morello would be playing with her dolls in the corner. She ain't no kid no more."

"Yes, she is," Franny says bitingly. "She's still a kid."

Buzz Cut laughs and snags a cigarette from the box on the kitchen counter. "Going out for a smoke. Don't miss me too much, alright?"

He grabs Franny and yanks her against him. He doesn't even give her time to react or steady herself before crushing his lips against hers. Lorna can't watch. She has to look away. Not out of embarrassment, but disgust. Once they hear the front door open and shut after him, Franny turns to Lorna with such solemnness, borderline horror in her eyes.

"Lorna, look at me. Did he touch you?"

"Like it matter if he did or not," Lorna hisses. "He's a cop, Franny. They get away with murder… He said you're fucking him because of parking tickets?"

Her words rupture Franny's strong front as she leans forward against the kitchen counter, eyes filling with shame. "How else do you suggest I pay for that shit? I work at a fucking diner and no one tips like they should. I do this and it all goes away."

"You mean he's staying over _again_?" Lorna asks angrily. "He's been over all week! Did he move in and you just aren't sayin' anything? We share a room, Franny! Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Mikey's crashed out on the couch. Take his."

"With how many times we've walked in on him jerking off in here? Every inch of his room is probably covered in splooge!"

Lorna pulls a face of distaste and it makes Franny laugh aloud despite how tired she looks and their dire situation. Lorna always seems to have that effect on everyone she encounters. She somehow manages to make the worst of situations a little lighter if only for a moment.

"Why don't you go stay with your rich little girl friend?" Franny suggests. "I figured that's where you'd be anyway."

"That's not exactly an option anymore…"

"Why not?" Franny's expression lights with curiosity that quickly melts into concern. "Something happen? I warned you about being friends with a dyke, didn't I? She touch you or something?"

"No!" Lorna thinks back to that afternoon in the loft and the way their mouths came together and stayed that way for quite a time. She might not have imitated it, but Lorna now realizes she's partly to blame for how long they lingered. "Things are just…weird between us and not because of anything Nicky did. I made things that way. Not worth mentioning, really."

"Well, wherever you sleep tonight just make sure to lock the door," Franny says firmly. "It's fucked up, ain't it? Mikey can pass out on the couch without a care, but I gotta tell you to lock yourself away."

"We shouldn't have to worry about that kind of shit. This is our home."

"Well, we worry about a lot of shit we shouldn't have to. It ain't fucking fair ma got sick and we had to grow up fast, but this is what we've got. You can run off with your rich friends as much as you like, but you're gonna have to grow up one day, Lorn."

Franny anxiously taps the cigarette box against the edge of the counter and it makes Lorna frown.

"Some men don't like smokers," Lorna sings.

"That dick ain't a man," Franny mutters. "You eat dinner yet?"

"I'm not so hungry anymore."

"Well, you gotta eat something. Lasagna. Your favorite." Franny sees how tightly Lorna's holding that knife and gently pries the cutlery out of her hand, setting it in the sink. "Hey, promise me you will, huh? Eat something."

Lorna nods and Franny goes out for a smoke, but not before grabbing a blanket from the hallway closet and laying it over Mikey. Once Franny walks out, Lorna stares long and hard at the tray of lasagna. She rarely turns down a meal, but can't bring herself to eat it, not even for Franny. Lorna shoves the tray back into the microwave, grabs her backpack and heads upstairs.

She goes through her nightly routine, trying to push all else from her mind. Lorna grabs some stuff from her room and sets up camp in her brother's. She starts doing her homework, but hearing Franny and Buzz Cut fucking through the insanely thin walls of the old house does nothing for her concentration. When she can't take it anymore, Lorna shuts her textbook, crawls out the window and sits on the roof, looking out over their dark neighborhood while playing with the diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist.

…

The first thing Piper does once she's home is take a little trip to her brother's room, which, knowing Cal, is a different world entirely. The walls are plastered with posters of comic book heroes and hobbits and there's even a glass display case for his action figures. Instead of going out and getting a high he can't pay for, Cal has taken up World of Warcraft, questing to look better than other people with better gear than other people faster than other people. Piper doesn't get it, but knows it keeps Cal occupied and out of trouble.

"So you're an elf," Piper says, "like Orlando Bloom."

"A _night_ elf. The night elves, both ancient and reclusive, have played a pivotal role in shaping Azeroth's fate all throughout history. Piper, you _newb_. And you know we only refer to fictional characters forced into movie adaptions by the name given to them by original creator."

Piper wants to roll her eyes as she sits at the foot of her brother's bed, kicking her feet back and forth, fiddling with a Yoda plush doll in her hands. She totally could roll her eyes and Cal wouldn't even notice with how he's across the room at his computer, paying her little attention.

"You like being someone else?" Piper asks quietly. "Just for a little? That's totally cool. I think I like doing the exact same thing."

She thinks of weekends (and even some week nights) with Nicky and Alex and occasionally Lorna. Every night she wakes up curled into Alex's side, mouth dry and head pounding, Piper swears it's the last time, but then she gets a text or Nicky shoves her into the back of a car at the end of the school day and the vicious, terribly fun cycle begins again. She doesn't tell Larry the details of her misadventures. Her parents believe her when she says she's sleeping over Polly's. It feels like a secret nighttime life and Piper secretly loves it.

"If this is your segue into trying to talk me into going to that dumb masquerade feel free to throw in the towel now," Cal says. "No way. Mom already tried."

"Come on! There's going to be masks and free food and Pete Harper is going to be there so spiked punch for all!"

A knock on the door draws their attention and it's Miss Claudette, the head maid. She's known all of the Chapman siblings since birth and has been working for the Chapman family for even longer. The look on her face lets you know right away that she doesn't take anyone's shit, especially not from her employer's spoiled children.

"Miss Piper, there's someone here to see you."

"Thank you," Piper says sweetly. She tosses the Yoda doll back onto Cal's bed and smoothes her hair, turning back to her brother. "Think about it. Larry and I are going to be there and you're welcome to hang out with us. Don't worry about feeling like a third wheel."

"Didn't even cross my mind. I probably hang out with Larry more than you do."

Piper doesn't question that, just walks out and follows a perpetually impatient Miss Claudette down the long, sophisticatedly decorated hallway. They reach the foyer adored with expensive paintings and sculptures, but it's empty.

"She was just here." Miss Claudette huffs irritably. "You know your mother and father doesn't like your little friends wandering."

"She?"

"Right here!"

Alex Vause, in all her black skinny jeans and black square-framed glasses glory, steps out of Mr. Chapman's office with a dozen red roses in one hand and a giant heart-shaped box of vegan chocolates in the other. Piper stares at her skeptically, but can't resist the thin line of a smile that graces her lips.

"What's all this?" Piper asks.

"You like it?"

"Who doesn't like flowers and chocolates? Thank you?"

Alex shifts the flowers in her hand and squints at the little card attached. "I'm sure Your Cuddle Bear will be pleased to hear that."

Piper rolls her eyes and snaps the flowers and chocolates away from the dark-haired girl with the sly smile. "Give me that." Piper brings the roses up to her nose and inhales deeply, all without taking her eyes off Alex. When Alex starts to walk around, hands behind her back, inspecting the atrocious, expensive art, Piper looks at the card.

_Pipes,_

_Can't wait to spend a magical evening with you. _

_- Your Cuddle Bear_

"Miss Claudette, can you put these in water for me?" Piper hands the flowers over to the older woman who does as instructed, leaving the two girls alone. "Do you want a tour? I see you already started on your own."

"I really had my fingers crossed that the door closes to the front would be the Chapman's SM sex library. Imagine my surprise when I walk in and it's all old books about Stock Market data."

"Sorry to disappoint." Piper shakes her head. "So, you were just In the neighborhood, I assume?"

"You read my mind." Alex smiles and how does she make fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose so damn sexy?" "The magical night Your Cuddle Bear speaks of, is that the masquerade ball?"

"Yup. Did Nicky tell you about it?"

"I'm actually required to attend. My boss' on-and-off sort of girlfriend is the party planner and they're on at the moment so everyone in upper management is required to show face…along with a few of the lower rungs."

"_Technically_, you're required to not show face because it's a _mask_-erade."

Alex chuckles the way she always does when Piper says something dorky and immediately regrets it. "You got me there, kid."

"Why are you really here, Alex?"

"Not much other than you."

Alex fixes her with this stare that makes the giant penthouse foyer feel so small all of a sudden. The way Alex looks at her is terrifying, but at the same time Piper never wants to look away and never wants Alex to stop looking at her that way.

"You know, my, uh, my boyfriend is going to be there. At the masquerade…"

Alex doesn't even blink. "Cool. I'm looking forward to meeting Gary."

"_Larry_. I swear you and Nicky do that on purpose! And I just recently learned that the Nichols have known the Blooms longer than I have." Piper shakes her head. "You know, it's a Venetian masquerade, which means you are going to stick out like a sore thumb with your black skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors."

"Could say the same to you. Does make ball gowns?"

"You'd be surprised," Piper replies. "Glasses weren't invented either."

"Neither were contacts so I guess I'm screwed either way."

Just as Alex steps closer, the front door swings open and Bill Chapman walks in and he isn't alone. Piper recognizes the other man almost immediately. He owns the boutique Piper visited earlier this afternoon and he looks downright pissed.

"Daddy," Piper says cheerfully. "You're home!"

Piper knows him as a good man and a loving father, but Bill Chapman can be tough and firm when need be. If he weren't, they wouldn't be living the way they do, where they are, and with the economic and social power that backs their family name. He's protective, especially when it comes to his only daughter, and it shows with his suspicion upon noticing Alex.

"Daddy, this is my friend, Alex Vause."

"And how do you know each other?"

"We're friends," Piper says, confused by her dad's tone that sounds more accusing than anything else. "We met through Nicky."

_Of course_ is written all over Bill's face and Piper's lips drop in a frown. Nicky already has so many people judging her without really knowing her and Piper hates that her parents are names on that list. It's another reason why she keeps her social life a secret.

"Piper, we need to talk. I'm sorry, but your friend is going to have to leave."

"Dad—"

"It's cool," Alex says. "I'll see you around, Pipes. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Chapman."

Alex discretely brushes her fingers across the small of Piper's back as she walks around her and to the door, showing herself out. Piper would call her father out on his behavior, but the boutique owner is still in the room, waiting patiently. His presence makes Piper nervous, rightly so.

"Piper, this is Mr. Masterson. He says you were at his shop earlier today with another girl. Now a twelve thousand dollar tennis bracelet is missing."

Piper's eyes go wide in a way that would be comical if this wasn't such a shock.

"Excuse me, but did you say th-the bracelet went missing?"

"We have it on surveillance, Miss Chapman," Mr. Masterson says coldly. "Your friend tries the bracelet on and never gives it back before sneaking out while you were still in the private changing room and my employees were busy with other customers. Because you and your mother are longtime, greatly valued customers, I've decided to hold off on involving the authorities. All we want is the bracelet returned and unharmed."

"Who is this girl, Piper?" Bill asks.

"Morello," Piper replies, as if in a daze, still trying to digest all of that information. "She…she lives in Brooklyn."

"Another friend Nicky Nichols introduced you to?"

"Mr. Masterson," Piper says, transitioning into polite, charming mode. "Sir, I'm sure this is all just one big misunderstanding. She's a good friend of mine and I know for a fact that she wouldn't do this on purpose. She was just in a hurry to leave. I'm sure I can just call her and get it back."

"If she hasn't pawned it yet," Bill adds gruffly.

Piper pulls her phone out of her pocket and quickly dials Lorna's phone. It goes straight to voicemail, which means her phone is either dead or she's deliberately avoiding contact.

"What's this girl's address, Piper?"

"Dad, no," Piper says. "Let me take care of it."

"It's late already, I wouldn't want you going to Brooklyn right now," Mr. Masterson says, turning up his nose. "If the bracelet isn't back in my hands by tomorrow, make no mistake, Miss Chapman, I will report this."

"Thank you, sir!" Piper says, forcing her lips into something like a smile. "You won't regret it, I promise."

"I'm sorry for all of this," Bill says, walking Mr. Masterson to the door. "Children, you know? We'll have all of this sorted out as soon as possible, I assure you."

As soon as Mr. Masterson is out the door, Bill turns to his daughter with dark disappointment in his eyes. He's never looked at her like this before and it isn't a good feeling whatsoever.

"I warned you about hanging out with that Nichols girl." Bill shakes his head, pacing toward his daughter. "Her mother is a good friend of ours, yes, has been for a long time, but it's no secret she won't be winning any parent of the year awards, at least not in this lifetime. It's no secret the things Nicky gets into and the people she gets into it with."

"Daddy, Nicky has nothing to do with this."

He gives her a deadly look for interrupting and Piper shuts up fast, reminded of that other side of her father. "As I was saying, you are not Nicky Nichols. You grew up in a good home with a good family. You should know better, Piper."

"I'm going to fix it. I will."

Bill refuses to address it anymore and tells her to wash up for dinner. He walks into his office and slams the door after, leaving Piper alone in the foyer, sad and a little more than stressed.

…

Public school sucks. School in general sucks. Lorna hates it.

The buildings are crumbling and covered in graffiti. The teachers are all worn out and tired. Their goal is more to contain the kids so they aren't on the streets being menaces rather than to teach them and prepare them for higher education. Majority of the students are resigned to their fate, to become minimum wage employees if not gangbangers or pregnant, single parents. Lorna wants so much more than this place has to offer.

"Damn! Look at white girl rocking those rocks!" Maritza Ramos grabs Lorna's wrist and inspects the bracelet that glitters even beneath the shitty florescent lighting. Lorna's sick of being manhandled and roughly pulls away.

"Are you dating a jewel thief?" Blanca Flores questions.

"No," Maritza answers before Lorna's brain can even catch up to how she's suddenly surrounded. "She's fucking that rich lezzy bitch that goes to school with Flaca. Don't think we don't see you batting your rainbow lashes all for that Mary Macho."

"Hey, fuck you," Lorna says venomously. "That's a hell of thing to say about someone whose house parties you're always crashin' and stealin' liquor from. Nicky's even considered stocking the bathrooms with Plan B just for you."

Martiza's faces goes neutral and she tries to step up to Lorna, but Maria holds her back.

"Easy, chica," Maria says soothingly, always the voice of reason among them.

"Yeah," Blanca says lightly. "I'd lick pussy for shit like this too. Probably less."

"There a problem here?" Tricia tosses her ratty backpack to the ground and pushes her way through the wall of Spanish speaking girls, going to stand at Lorna's side. Despite being small in stature, Tricia tries to act tough, but Maritza and crew just laugh at her little act and her cornrows.

"Not at all," Maritza says sweetly. She falls back and gives Lorna one last intent look. "See you in gym, puta."

"Bitches," Tricia spits at the backs of the retreating girls. "Yo, don't let them get to you. The little one's just jealous you and Nicky are tight, but her and Flaca go to different schools and bitch at each other all the time."

Lorna watches Tricia, surprised that she jumped in to back her up. When things with Nicky got weird, Tricia made it clear that she is team Nicky. She practically cut Lorna out of her life until Alex and Nicky told her to ease up. When Tricia sees her staring, she puts on a bright smile and gives Lorna's shoulder a playful shove.

"Yo, why are you starting shit with Maritza them anyway?"

"I wasn't starting anything," Lorna replies. "They just came over and got all in my face. No idea why."

"So Nicky asked me to take her place as a server at some fancy party or something tonight." Tricia picks her backpack up off the ground and tosses the strap around her shoulder. "Looks like we're gonna be coworkers for the night. Sweet, huh?"

"Yeah, sweet."

As they walk down the hallway together, Lorna is sure to keep tugging on her sleeve, sure to conceal the bracelet underneath.

…

Nicky does what she always does when life doesn't go her way, except now instead of heroin or Lorna Morello's attention, it's sex with random hot girls.

(Random hot girls that are often petite and always brunettes. Nicky may have a type, but, no, she does not have a Lorna Morello Complex. Shut the fuck up, Alex Vause.)

Nicky is well aware that she uses lesser addictions to distraction her from bigger ones, but knowing doesn't make it easier. If it isn't this then it's that so it might as well be this. And right now that _this_ is moaning her name in a bathroom stall with Nicky on her knees.

The bathroom door creaks open, but Nicky doesn't stop the skilled movements of her hands and lips. Everyone knows what this bathroom is for and faculty members have their own bathrooms so they wouldn't be caught in this one.

"Nicky, we need to talk!" Piper shouts. "It's urgent!"

Nicky smirks at the confidence in Piper's voice and her steps as opposed to when she first approached Nicky for help finding her brother. It says something about their friendship. How Nicky's so easily distracted, almost totally forgetting the mostly naked girl in front of her, also says something, but nothing Nicky wants to confront at the moment.

"Nicky!" Piper bangs on the stall door. "It's about Morello!"

If she almost forgot before, Nicky completely forgets now, springs to her feet and wipes her mouth on her arm. The girl mutters, "What the fuck?" but Nicky pays her no attention and pulls the door open before the girl can even make herself decent.

Piper's eyes skirt toward the girl who's in the process of getting dressed again and her gaze lingers long enough for Nicky to notice and laugh. She rounds her arm around Piper's shoulder and steers her to the door and out into the hallway.

"Are you sure you aren't into pussy in general, Piper?"

"Does Morello have a history of petty theft?"

"Shit." Nicky combs her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of the way. "What did she do now?"

"_Now_?"

"She isn't an internationally jewel thief, doesn't even have a record or anything. It isn't pathological. Just little things. Candy. Gum. Lipstick…lighters. She's also great at picking locks, but, y'know, mostly a side effect of Brooklyn."

"This isn't funny, Nicky."

"Tell me what happened, Chapman."

Nicky and Piper sit by the school pool as Piper explains, so torn up about this while Nicky nods along. Unfortunately, she isn't very surprised. Despite her appearance and the way she carries herself, Lorna Morello is no angel. It's something Nicky has come to know, even like in a twisted way. It just sucks Piper has to find out this way.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" Nicky mutters, mostly to herself, staring into the pool water. "She's working the dumb masquerade tonight, but doesn't report to Red till five. We'll drop by her house after school. The thing about Lorna is she does things sometimes. Impulsive shit that doesn't make sense."

"Don't make excuses for her, Nicky."

"I'm not making excuses!" Nicky shouts defensively. "I'm just telling you it's what she does sometimes. She says and does the craziest shit, but that doesn't mean she isn't a good person."

"I want to believe you, Nicky. I really do."

…

The _West Side Story_ original sound track recording plays from an old stereo as Lorna gets ready for work. All the lovely voices manage to distract her or calm her nerves. It's apart of her routine when getting ready for one of Red's catering gigs. Lorna usually ends up singing the songs in her head and it makes lugging a tray around a crowded room a little more bearable.

Mikey kicks her door open and almost causes Lorna to draw her lipstick off the corner of her lips and across her cheek. Her brother leans in the doorway, shoving Doritos into his mouth, not caring about the crumbs that scatter all over the ground.

"That fucking cop just got into our shower and now he's singing fuckin' Katy Perry and not even the good shit Kanye let her in on neither," Mikey says with a full mouth. "Get this, the fucker's been using my aftershave. Fran's been fuckin' him for the whole neighborhood to hear and the dude smells like me. How fucked is that?"

"Did ya really almost mess up my makeup just to give me an update on that animal?"

"Naw, actually your scary lesbian girlfriend is downstairs. I think she was trying to throw rocks at your window, but you're blasting this shit, ruined the movie moment. And she didn't even have the decency to bring along Hot Vause."

"Alex is gonna beat the shit out of you if you don't quit hittin' on her."

"And I would love every second." Mikey invites himself into the room she shares with Franny, turns the music off and grabs her buzzing phone off the edge of her dresser. "Look, you've got like a dozen missed calls. The point of having a phone is using it."

"Oh, I had no idea! Thank you," Lorna says sarcastically. She steals her phone away, fighting the anxiety that blooms in her chest at the reminder. She knows her phone has been ringing all day, but buried it at the bottom of her bag and pushed it from her mind. Now that Nicky's involved, there's no more ignoring what's been right in front of her face all day.

Lorna heads down the stairs and sees Nicky and Piper by the front door. Piper is fidgeting, staring at her shoes, while Nicky's eyes dart all around, drinking it her surroundings. They've been friends for a while now, but this is the first time Nicky has actually been inside of the Morello house. Lorna feels the bile rise up her throat, knowing her house is a dump, something she never wanted her friends to see.

"Sweet digs." Nicky smirks up at her and motions to a family portrait on the wall. "The little one in the white dress, with the pigtails and the missing teeth, crying her eyes out, that you?"

"I-In my defense, the photographer kept wavin' this creepy puppet in my face—"

"Where's the bracelet, Morello?" Piper charges ahead of Nicky and for a second it looks like she's about to hit Lorna, who doesn't even bother to lift her arms and defend herself. Deep down, on some level that penetrates what she tells herself and what she pushes out of her thoughts, Lorna knows she's at fault here.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Lorna asks with a nervous little laugh that gives her away. She can tell a damn good lie if she can submerge herself in it, allow herself to be tangled in her own webs, but not when caught off-guard like this and especially not when Nicky is looking at her in this way, with such concern and maybe a little disappointment. "I was going to give it back, I swear."

Piper's eyebrows nearly shoot up into her hairline. "You were? Mother and I shop there all the time. We have an account and they have security cameras. Did you really think you could get away with it?"

"I don't know," Lorna says quietly, and with such honesty. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I don't even remember taking it, really. It was a blur and suddenly I had it!"

"Suddenly you had it? The owner came to my home!" Piper shouts, more out of fear than anger. "He talked to my father! And in his twisted logic he's blaming Nicky and I just need the bracelet back _please_. Just give it to me and I can make all of this go away."

Lorna nods frantically. "Yeah, yeah, 'course."

"See, Chapman." Nicky clasps her tense shoulder and gives her a little shake, hoping to loosen her up a little. "It's just a little mistake. All copasetic, huh?"

Lorna grabs for her backpack on the couch and rifles through the small outside pocket. She feels around and her sorry expression turns to confusion and then dismay. Lorna shoves the clutter of empty cereal bowls, beer bottles and overflowing ashtray to one side of the coffee table and dumps the contents of her backpack out onto the other. Books and folders flop out along with pens and pencils, but no tennis bracelet.

"I-it's gone," Lorna says shakily. "No, no. I had it at school and now it's gone!"

Piper's face drops. "What do you mean it's gone?"

"I mean it's not fucking here!" Lorna turns the pockets of her backpack inside out and gives it a little shake. "I was wearing it last night and this morning, but then I put it in my backpack before gym…" Lorna's expression hardens. "Those fucking Puerto Rican whores!"

Nicky and Piper exchange looks at the outburst, then race after Lorna who nearly runs out the front door, heart hammering and fire in her eyes.

…

"Those fucking Spanish girls" as Lorna refers to them frequent a local park where boys play basketball shirtless and a drug deal is probably going down under a nearby tree, not too far from the playground where children chases each other around. Maritza pushes a stroller in circles as Maria has her daughter upright in front of her. While holding the little girl's hands, Maria praises her in Spanish every time she takes a wobbly little step. Blanca isn't too far away, writing "Blanca + Diablo forever" on the plastic slide.

Lorna cuts across the park, a girl on a mission, with Piper and Nicky at either side of her, hustling to keep up. Once they finally slow down in front of Maritza, Lorna and Piper look ready for battle while Nicky curses, wipes at the sweat on her forehead and pulls out a cigarette.

"Look who it is," Maritza sings. She mutters something in Spanish, but finds herself distracted by Lorna suddenly stepping up to her. Lorna is small in stature, but with her rolling up on you, she can be fucking intimidating.

"Where's the fucking bracelet, Maritza?"

"What fucking bracelet, gringa?"

"The bracelet!" Lorna stomps, would probably throw something if she had the means. "The one I had up until gym, a class I have with you. You were giving me such grief over the damn thing just this morning and now it's gone!"

"Bitch, I didn't take your shit!"

"Don't fucking lie to me!"

Lorna grabs for her purse and Maritza yanks it back. "Watch the Prada!"

"Like we can't tell it's a knockoff!" Lorna shouts in return.

Blanca comes running up to Maritza's side, assessing the situation with her dark eyes and ready to step in if it necessary. Nicky sees her and gently takes Lorna's arm, pulling her back just a step.

"I don't have your dumb bracelet!" Maritza shouts. "What would I do with it other than get mugged wearing it around here?"

"Pawn it," Nicky suggests between drags of her cigarette.

Piper dramatically turns to Nicky, hair whipping over her shoulder. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"I don't have it," Maritza says. "I swear on my daughter's life."

"I can pay." Piper's desperation seeps through her words. Nicky touches her shoulder to keep Piper from literally dropping to her knees as she begs. "I can pay you so much more than you'd get by pawning the bracelet."

Nicky is observant. She can read people. While Blanca stands strong, Maritza's daughter begins to cry and the teen mom takes herself out of the heated moment to tend to her daughter. Blanca is clearly just backing up her friend, doesn't even know what the argument is about. Maritza doesn't flinch once. Either she has a sociopath-grade poker face or she's telling the truth.

"They don't have it," Nicky decides. "Let's go."

A second cigarette later, they finally tear Lorna away with the promise of ice cream. As they take a moment to regroup (mostly sit on a park bench in a tense silence) Nicky tries really hard to focus on figuring out a next step. Piper's already in an immense amount of trouble with her parents and Lorna could potentially be in trouble with the police. Nicky Nichols is no hero, but she'd definitely jump at the opportunity to save her friend's hot ass and hold it over her heads for the rest of eternity.

Nicky tries really hard to focus, but it's kind of hard with the way Lorna is sitting next to her and taking her stress out on an ice cream cone. A vanilla soft serve ice cream cone from a truck to be exact. Nicky doesn't even try to be discrete about watching. Lorna's thoughts are racing, a downward spiral that shows in her eyes as her little pink tongue darts out and swirls around the ice cream over and over again. Nicky realizes she's staring and would realize even without Piper elbowing her, but awareness does little for her self-control.

Then it hits her.

"I got an idea," Nicky says. "Gossip Girl."

"Gossip Girl?"

"Gossip Girl." Nicky nods. "The bitch sees all or whatever, right? We tell Gossip Girl we're missing the thing. If she puts it out there and someone comes forward with the bracelet then we owe her one."

"Owe her one?" Piper asks skeptically. "What does that even mean?"

"Hell if I know." Nicky shrugs and makes the mistake of glancing from Piper to Lorna, who has ice cream on the tip of her nose, but doesn't let it stop her eager licks. "We, uh, we can figure that out later. Right now getting the bracelet back is top priority, right?"

"Fine." Piper gives in. "Do it."

"You got a picture of the bracelet, Morello?" Nicky asks.

At this point, Lorna has ice cream all over the lower half of her face, dripping down her lips. Nicky imagines licking it off her, learning what cheap ice cream tastes like off of Lorna's lips. But that isn't realistic. In reality, Nicky hands her a napkin instead. Lorna gives her phone to Nicky just as Piper's phone ring and she walks out of earshot to answer it.

"Nice selfies." Nicky chuckles as she clicks through Lorna's phone, looking for the perfect picture to send to Gossip Girl. "So Red basically paid you to play dress up with Chapman yesterday, huh?"

"Nichols, why am I like this, you think?"

The heaviness of the question puts Nicky's quest on pause as she lowers the phone and looks over at Lorna, who's head is tilted to the side, getting the best angle possible to crunch on the wafer cone that Nicky's always thought tasted like plastic.

"What? Being prone to fucking up once in a while? I think they call that being a human being."

Lorna shakes her head resolutely. "I mean, the shit I do specifically."

"I don't know. I do know shoplifting is larceny in New York. I know if the shoplifter is a minor the victim can sue the legal guardians for the retail value of what was stolen if it isn't returned. I know you regret what you did and I know you wanna fix it and that makes you, eh, a decent human being."

When Lorna shakes her head again, Nicky doesn't even hesitate to let her hand ghost down from Lorna's shoulder to her fidgeting fingers. Nicky gives her a comforting squeeze that has Lorna lifting her head to look at Nicky through her wet lashes.

"Anyone ever tell you that you say the sweetest things, Nichols?"

The sarcasm in her voice makes Nicky chuckle. It also reassures her that Lorna's going to be okay, that she's hanging in there, even if it is by a thread. Nicky knows no amount of girls she fucks into the bathroom wall will change the way she's drawn to Lorna Morello, but she has her fingers crossed that time will usher them in a more platonic direction. The way Nicky can't stop wanting to smile at the sweet smudge of ice cream on Lorna's adorable, hot mess of a face says otherwise.

…

_Calling all White Knights! Following in Cinderella's forgetful footsteps, it seems our Queen P and N Nasty, have misplaced the priceless jewels as seen below. Seems fairy tales are back in style as our favorite fair maidens await a white knight to roll in and rescue their evening. For anyone with information, P and N might be able to provide you with a little happily ever after, at least for a night. xoxo GG _

…

_GG made us sound like sluts! _

Piper briefly looks over her grammar before hitting the send button.

Seconds later, her phone rings with a reply from Nicky:

_I got the pussy covered but I ain't suckin no dick. That's all you Chapman. Take one for the team._

"Who are you texting?"

Piper instinctively shoves her phone back into her clutch and turns to Larry, who's right beside her. He went all out with the costume, wearing a black velvet cape and a hat shaped like a pastry. Larry even had a plastic toy sword that apparently "came with the costume" but his father (thankfully) convinced him to leave it at home. He isn't wearing his mask at the moment, making the dissatisfaction on his face that much more obvious.

"You're having an awful time, aren't you?" he asks.

"No!" Piper glances around at the carriage they're sitting in as they ride through picturesque Central Park. The driver (not to mention the horse) is just up ahead of them, probably eavesdropping, but paid to pretend he isn't. "I'm just a little preoccupied. A fancy, expensive dinner and now this, it's all really sweet, Larry."

"Can't you just forget everything for a second? Forget that Nicky Nichols got you into a mess, which I hate to say it, but I warned you she would. Just think about us here, you and me and the carriage driver and Seabiscuit. I feel like I haven't seen you in months and when I do see you your head is a million miles away."

"I know. I'm sorry. With school and my family…"

"But you can make time to hang out with Nicky and her delinquent friends?"

Piper flinches at the sharp accusation.

"She's my lab partner," Piper blurts out. She hears the defensive edge to her voice and realizes it isn't exactly relevant, but it isn't a lie either. Leaving out certain details is so much easier than lying straight to his face.

"And what?" Larry pushes. "You're running around Brooklyn working on a science experience?"

Experimentation is involved, yes, just not scientific. Well, possibly biology.

"You know I hate when you use Gossip Girl to keep tabs on me," Piper says flatly. She stares down at the thick layers of her dress, ignoring the way Larry tries his hardest not to give in to her even though they both know he will. He always does.

"Jeez, Pipes, I'm sorry. I just…I feel like a dumb gossip site is more involved in your life than I am and I'm your boyfriend."

"If your definition of 'involved' is stalking me then, yeah, Larry, exactly!" Piper shouts. She folds her arm and massages the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath of air that smells vaguely of horse manure. "Unlike Gossip Girl, I actually want you in my life."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Piper pulls that stupid hat off his head and touches his dark, bristly hair as she kisses him with eyes shut tight. Maybe kissing will make her forget. Like how kissing Alex Vause makes her temporarily forget her boyfriend who attempts romantic dates involving carriage rides and looks so fucking insecure over the idea of being unwanted and rejected by her. Maybe Larry can make her forget about Nicky and this black hole of a world she's opened, a world Piper is no longer knee deep in, but that has swallowed her whole. Forget Morello and the bracelet. Forget Alex Vause. Larry makes a desperate effort with his tongue in her mouth and his eager hands all over her. He tries, _really_ tries.

(She never tells him, but he fails.)

…

_They say looks can be deceiving, but sometimes what we see is what we know to be true, but refuse to believe. En garde, Upper East Siders. Let the bawl begin. –GG _

…

Piper actually decides on a mask Morello picked out for her. It's a beautiful, ivory mask with a butterfly on one side and nude lace all around. It goes well with her off the shoulder champagne gown with a sexy lace neckline. It really is a miracle that she managed to find a decent gown on such short notice. The thought leads back to the boutique and Piper swallows dryly, holding Larry's arm even tighter.

The moment they step out of the cab outside of the hotel they're met with camera flashes. Five minutes after they walk in through the door, photos of her and Larry (some with Larry cropped out) are up on the Gossip Girl site. Piper resists the urge to check the comments, knowing someone is bound to anonymously mention how Larry looks more jester than prince.

Knowing there isn't much more she can do in the bracelet department or the Gossip Girl department, Piper puts what little energy she has left into going through the motions. Larry and Piper make their way into the ballroom and go straight to the photo booth, posing for a few elegant, demure photos and even more goofy ones.

Even with her skin buzzing from nerves and anxiety, Piper can't help, but search the dimly lit ballroom for one particular face that might be wearing glasses or not. Even with Larry so close that their skin brushes every few seconds, Piper can't help, but wonder about Alex Vause, if she's arrived yet and what she's wearing…

"Is that Polly with Pete Harper?" Larry asks.

At the very center of the dance floor, Pete, dressed in a proper, ruffled suit with an actual jester's hat, twirls Polly in a circle before dipping her low, making her face light up with laughter. Piper loves Polly to death, but she's always had a knack for trying too hard. Tonight, though, she looks absolutely stunning in a silk, scarlet dress and a black feather mask.

"Yep," Piper replies. "I think I might have unintentionally hooked that up."

"Well, you've created a fancy footed monster."

Piper puts on a pleasant smile as they walk toward Larry's parents, sitting at a table where you'd think you'd have to be Jewish to have a seat. They're all lawyers and accountants with their wives giggling behind metal filigree masks and buried beneath fur coats. Piper knows her parents are around, but wouldn't be hanging out with Larry's parents. The social hierarchy within the Upper East Side social doesn't just extend beyond high school, but intensifies with age.

Larry's parents greet her warmly, though it doesn't feel as comfortable as it maybe should be. They've met at least a dozen times now, but the air kisses and the stiff hugs never feel quite right.

"Larry," his father almost sings in a baritone voice. "There's someone I want you to meet. A fellow Harvard man like myself. Maybe he can talk some sense into your thick skull about the importance of higher education."

"What about you, Piper?" his mother asks. "Any interest in Harvard?"

"Mom," Larry whines. "We've talked about this. Piper's going to Smith."

"Well, maybe you should take Piper's lead and start thinking about college and the future, Leonard," his mom shoots back.

"Yeah, Leonard, listen to your mother," Piper teases from just over his shoulder. "You should go and mingle. I should probably go find my parents and show face. Well, you know what I mean."

Larry hasn't let go of Piper's gloved hand since the carriage ride and really doesn't want to right now. He presses a light little kiss to her cheek before finally moving his hand away and untangling her arm from his.

Honestly, Piper isn't too sure what it is her father actually does. She just knows he has an office on Wall Street and is very involved in the Stock Market. His deep involvement is what pays for their lifestyle at the expense of a terrible amount of stress. Piper knows this and so she shows her appreciation in little ways, like not asking questions.

Piper leans forward on the tips of her toes, searching the crowd for a particularly wild set of hair framing a lion mask. No one has responded to _Gossip Girl: Special Lost and Found Edition_ so maybe it's time to think up a Plan C.

Before Piper can spot either Nicky or Morello, she's distracted by none other than Alex Vause, who's at the top of the staircase in a gorgeous black dress that touches the floor and trails behind her. Her intricate mask is akin to Catwoman, but sexier. Instead of hiding all, but the eyes like Nicky's, it only covers the area around her eyes much like Piper's. Her escort is a man in an expensive suit and a terrifying wolf mask, wielding a silver cane. Three men follow just behind them, wearing significantly less showy suits, but identical wolf masks. When she spots Piper, Alex ditches the wolves she apparently runs with and approaches Piper on a solo hunt.

"Your mask does a terrible job at hiding your identity," Piper says.

"Speak for yourself," Alex shoots back. She folds her bare, tattooed arms and devours Piper with her eyes. "Just as I thought, you look horrendous."

"Uh-huh. And that's exactly why you can't take your eyes off me."

Alex laughs, but remains cool, hardly ever embarrassed or at least, hardly ever showing it. "Wow. It's been a whole thirty seconds and you haven't shoved your foot in your mouth. Maybe you should wear a mask all the time."

A tall, bulky man in a wolf mask steps up behind Alex and sets his red eyes on Piper. She realizes right away that they're probably colored contacts, but that rational doesn't stop Piper's smile from fading. When Alex looks over her shoulder, she scoffs and Wolf Mask quickly backs away, fading into the crowd with a wink.

"Friends of yours?" Piper asks.

"An on-duty business associate," Alex answers. "Lucky for me, I happen to be off the clock tonight. How about we get a few drinks and then you can give me a little tour?"

"I didn't even get a chance to look around."

"Well then, we can explore together."

Piper looks up to the balcony where Larry is with his parents and an older gentleman, trapped in a typical high society conversation. Larry forces a laugh like he was taught to from a young age, trained to be polite and engaging. Piper then turns back to Alex, who tips her head toward the bar in an encouraging manner. Piper shakes her head and grinds her heels against the polished floor. She needs to stay grounded and Alex Vause has the exact opposite effect on her.

"Shit's going down, Al," Piper says. "Morello could be in big trouble and I—"

"Hey, relax." Alex touches her arm in an intended act of comfort that quickly turns sexy. Piper takes a deep breath as Alex squeezes her hand. "Alright. Now catch me up and don't forget to breathe."

…

Nicky likes to think Red does things with only the best intentions and hidden lessons, but forcing her to attend this dumb ball and on such short notice just feels cruel. She's had enough of this shit growing up, when her mom dragged her around and she had no choice in the matter. Then she caught Nicky getting high in the bathroom with a few other society kids and the demands to attend ceased entirely. Nicky hates all this themed party shit. It's supposedly for a good cause, the proceeds going toward whatever charity is fashionable this month, but in reality, it's just another excuse for the rich to drink and dress up and gather to judge each other.

"Or-dervs, miss?"

Nicky smiles to herself because fuck, finally, someone she wants to see. She turns around and there's Lorna looking so tiny, holding a giant tray of hors d'oeuvres. Honestly, the bite-size snacks on the tray all look so uniform and beautiful. Red had to have taken Nicky's suggestion to TiVo Martha Stewart and study it religiously. Red smacked her upside the head at the suggestion, but this is so far from the hearty comfort food from the motherland that usually comes out of the Dmitri's kitchen.

Lorna looks hot per usual, hair neatly pinned back, wearing a crisp white shirt and fitted black slacks with a red bowtie. Nicky won't say it, of course, but she knows she's so transparent when it comes to this girl. Luckily, Lorna's clueless half the time and with all the dumb drama surrounding the dumb necklace, Lorna's in her Trying Too Hard to Pretend Everything's Okay mode.

"_Hors d'oeuvres_," Nicky says teasingly. "What? Did Red write it phonetically on your hand or something?" Nicky takes Lorna's free hand, inspecting it, playing with Lorna's fingers a bit, feels a little of the tension in her muscles relax.

Suddenly, Lorna's face turns so grave. "Any word from Gossip Girl?"

Nicky glances at the screen of her phone. "Nope."

Lorna shuts her eyes and nods her head, letting the sense of dread soak in. She sneaks a peek over at Nicky with one eye first and then both. "Hey, you don't look half bad either, Nichols. Clean up well, don't ya?"

Nicky smirks, tugging on the lapels of her black blazer worn over a short black dress and her scuffed, black Doc Martens. She didn't even try to do shit with her hair, knowing the sheer size and uncontrollable nature of it would work well with the full-face lion mask that looks badass. Even if her attendance wasn't a last minute obligation, Nicky would probably still turn up looking this way and not giving a shit about the disapproving glances she gets from around the room.

"I-I'm sorry about all this, Nic," Lorna says weakly. "Not only are Piper's parents mad at her on account of me, but they think you're a bad influence."

Nicky laughs and the sound echoes back against her thanks to the mask. "Don't worry about it. I'm use to upper crust asshats blaming me for the shit their kids get into. No biggie. Martyr Nicky at your service."

"Yeah, well, they don't know you like they should. Fuck them, right?"

Sometimes Nicky can't bear the way Lorna looks at her. Nicky can't even bring herself to try and decode what's being said in those big, shiny brown eyes. She doesn't let herself go there because she knows for a fact that Lorna is completely and totally unaware. Mostly, Nicky doesn't let herself go there because it fucking hurts.

"Ay, Morello, shouldn't you be, y'know, working?"

"Always so pushy," Lorna complains, but with a playful little note in her voice. "And if things get bad with the bracelet and everything and I don't see ya for a while, I just wanna say thanks, you know, for everything."

"Wait, why do you sound like you're giving up?"

Lorna shrugs her shoulders and has to use both hands to support the weight of the metal tray of finger food. "Let's face it, that bracelet is long gone. I fucked up and I gotta deal with it. If Red wasn't counting on all of us, I'd say let's get outta here, have one last crazy night, but…" She lifts her shoulders once again, just to let them drop, accepting what's to come, but still so unaware of the severity, that she actually broke the law.

"I know it probably sounds like shit coming from me of all people, but have hope, yeah?"

Lorna nods frantically. "Now, are ya gonna take one of these tiny, _itty bitty_ sandwiches or not? I swear they're like food for dolls. How are none of these people just gobbling 'em up?"

Nicky's lips pull into a smile as she lifts her mask and pops one of the finger sandwiches into her mouth. As she watches Lorna walk away, offering more hors d'oeuvres, Nicky squeezes her fingers tight around her phone. She keeps glancing down, thinking she feels it vibrating, hopefully with good news from Gossip Girl, but it's not. Nicky tries to distract herself for the moment, checks out all the hot girls in costume and the dude juggling fire, but her eyes always drift to Lorna who's always gravitating toward Christopher.

Even with everything going on, Lorna still finds the time to ogle a guy that would rather not know she exists. Not that she would admit this to anyone aloud, but it's a big part of why Nicky didn't want to be here in the first place. She gets enough of this at Crazy Lou's or wherever Christopher's lame band is playing. Knowing Lorna only has eyes for Christopher is one thing, but seeing it is something else entirely.

"The food here is shit."

And there's another reason.

Natalie Figueroa (who hates being called "Fig" so everyone does behind her back) is a senior at Constance Billard and was Gossip Girl's main squeeze up until picking Piper out of the blue. It's tradition for Gossip Girl to pick an "It-Girl" and track her and her inner circle up until graduation, but for reasons still undisclosed and heavily speculated, out of the blue Gossip Girl dropped Fig and picked up Piper. Naturally, Fig is scary bitter about it.

Fig is off to the side, near the fountain spouting punch, wearing a dress that's a dark, near black shade of purple and an extravagant headpiece with protruding horns. A look that definitely suits her. She's with Susan Fischer, who is super nice and naïve (and Nicky would totally hit that if given the opportunity). Angela Kuznick is also with them and she is just as interested in Lorna's attempt to talk to Christopher as Nicky, but less discrete about it.

"The entertainment is worse than the food," Angela replies. She lowers her jeweled mask on a stick and takes a sip of her spiked punch.

Usually, Nicky would ignore the bitches and the shit they say, but for some reason she can't even rationalize in her head, Nicky moves closer and goes to pour herself a cup of punch. Christopher manages to sneak away from Lorna and joins them. When he tries to wrap his long arm around Angela, she stubbornly shuffles away.

"What?" Christopher asks confusedly.

Fig laughs, such a snobby sound, complete with the slight head tilt back. "Angela isn't entertained. I, on the other hand, am thanks to your little stalker offering us the shit food every thirty seconds. The girl is like a sad, broken record."

Nicky's grip on the metal punch ladle tightens until she starts to shake.

"Angela," Christopher whines. "You act like I knew she was going to be here, which I didn't."

"I don't know," Susan interjects, fiddling with her encrusted silver mask. "I think she's sort of sweet."

"She's annoying," Christopher says. "And I have no idea what she's saying when she's talking and she isn't even that pretty—"

Before he can continue, Nicky accidentally (on purpose) spills her vodka punch concoction all over Christopher, sure to flick her wrist and ensure some of the droplets fly in the girls' direction.

Fig pulls back with a gasp. "Are you kidding! Nichols, you bitch!"

"Aw, shit. My bad. How clumsy of me."

Nicky gives them her best, most genuine glare and curses when she realizes her mask hides it all. So done with all of this and all of these fucking people, Nicky promptly turns and stomps away, ignoring Fig fuming behind her.

…

There's a maze of mirrors in a smaller ballroom connected to the main one where the ball is being held. Piper and Alex wander in and around, hand in hand, but only when no one else is around. Some of the mirrors distort their reflection while others are almost too clear and arranged in a way that leaves you surrounded by yourself, exposing every one of your physical flaws before your very eyes.

"No one told me I look like an American Girl doll!" Piper exclaims.

Alex winces when she sees her reflection beside Piper's. "I went for badass with this outfit, not the Black Swan after she loses her shit."

"I love Swan Lake!"

"Hmm, yeah, Natalie Portman on Mila Kunis was pretty hot."

"That's not what I meant, Alex."

Alex presses up behind Piper and slides her hand around her, fingers feeling over the soft lace of Piper's dress. Piper turns her body a little and looks at Alex from over her shoulder. When Alex meets her eyes, Piper inhales sharply. Alex raises her thin, dark eyebrows in a challenge, but also a question. It's always Alex pressing, Alex pursuing and Piper going with it, Piper letting her. Alex offers her an out just before they drown in each other, but Piper never takes it.

"What is it about you?" Piper mutters, distractedly detecting each and every shade of green in Alex's eyes that aren't hiding behind a pair of glasses for once.

"What do you mean?"

"You make me forget like, _really_ forget."

"Okay?" Alex laughs. "You're going to need to elaborate on this one, kid."

"When I'm around you and _with_ you, everything else seems so distant, so insignificant," Piper explains. It's something she struggles with by the way her eyebrows narrow in such deep contemplation. "I forget who I am, that I'm Piper _Chapman_ and the standard of excellence that comes with the Chapman name. I forget that I'm supposed to be dating this really nice, but totally safe rich boy from a respected family. I'm in deep, deep shit with legal ramifications, but all I care about is being here with you looking at me like _that_."

"All of this is supposed to be a good thing, right?"

"In the long run? I haven't figured that out yet, but here, now, definitely."

Alex hums softly, righting in Piper's ear. "Ah, so there's a long run?"

When Alex hitches one eyebrow higher than the other, Piper decides that she's so done with talking. Piper reaches up, threading her fingers into Alex's soft, dark hair as she pulls her closer. Before their mouths can meet, their masks clash in this awkward, slightly painful way that makes both of them laugh. Piper pushes her mask up into her hair, whispers, "let's try that again," and brings their lips together with much more success.

…

Lorna isn't a kleptomaniac or anything. She doesn't get off on stealing. From a very young age it was always more of a game between her and her siblings. They would see if they could get away with taking little things like pieces of candy or gum. It was a game Lorna grew up to be really, really good at.

Though she tries not to, Lorna thinks of all the things Nicky had said about the boutique owner suing her family if the merchandise isn't recovered in sellable condition. The Morellos struggle to put food on the table and keep the lights on. Franny, who's a good person, the best Lorna has ever known, used sex to pay for parking tickets. Lorna realizes the trouble she's caused for her family with this bracelet situation, another thing on a long list that spans years.

Spotting Christopher in the ballroom is the one thing that makes Lorna feel better, distracts her from everything going on. He looks so handsome and dashing in his long coat and modest black mask. Lorna would recognize him even without the getup. The only thing she regrets is how she notices Angela first. It grinds her gears that they're together again and she missed her chance with him the night of the rave. Once she thinks it, Lorna is quick to remind herself that she did it for Nicky. She reminds herself that Nicky is worth it.

"Hor-dervs?"

Angela shifts closer to her boyfriend, draping herself all over him once she notices Lorna's presence. "No thanks for the thousandth time."

"Angela…" Christopher groans.

"No. I'm tired of this." Angela looks right at Lorna from behind a princess metal mask. "We're tired of your sad little crush on _my_ boyfriend. Christopher is tired of you stalking him all the time, but he's too nice to say anything. You aren't even friends. He doesn't even like you."

"No, I-I know that," Lorna squeaks. "I just really like the band."

Angela laughs. "Come on. No one likes their band."

"Angela!" Christopher calls out in protest, but it obviously isn't in Lorna's defense.

"Your band is terrible and I still choose you," Angela says gently, bringing her hand to Christopher's clean-shaven cheek. They stare at each other, nearly forgetting that Lorna is right in front of them, her sticky fingers trembling against the metal tray and tears clouding her eyes.

"Um, if you don't want any of these fancy kabobs, I'll just move along," Lorna says awkwardly. She starts to back away, bobbing a little. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Hey, if I ever see you near my boyfriend again, you'll regret it."

Lorna feels her anger on the rise, a feeling she's so familiar with. She's instinctively polite, but as she walks away, Lorna knows she could take Angela. Lorna is a Morello, born and raised in Brooklyn. She's on the verge of losing herself to her anger, but then she notices the way Christopher isn't even concerned for her, too busy looking at Angela like a lovesick puppy. The poor guy. He's so confused and it just makes Lorna so sad all of a sudden.

"Everything okay here, Morello?" Tricia asks, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah. Just fine!"

Tricia nods, but her eyes are racing around the room. "Yo, have you seen Nicky? She promised she'd be my wingman with Mercy. I've been around the room like twice and I can't find her."

"Uh, I saw her around here earlier. I'll let her know you're lookin' for her if I see her."

Lorna stays on the opposite side of the room from Christopher and Angela for the rest of the night, especially when the happy couple is on the dance floor, moving across it in a graceful series of steps like they were born and raised to, being society kids living a lifestyle that requires such knowledge. Lorna wishes she didn't want it as much as she does.

When she finally clears her tray, Lorna returns to the kitchen. She puts on a smile and forces a little bounce into her step. Red and everyone working in the back are stressed out as is. She doesn't need her problems bringing anyone else down except herself. When she walks inside, the first person Lorna sees is Nicky. Her hair is contained in a high ponytail and her mask is off, left on a counter along with her blazer as she kneads dough, elbow deep in flour. It's a miracle none of it has gotten on her dress yet.

"Hey Nichols! Tricia's lookin' for you and oh! Did you see Poussey out there? She looks exactly like the Phantom of the Opera! You know the Phantom of the Opera, right? I bet you've even seen it on Broadway, got a Playbill and everything." Lorna spins a bit on the tips of her toes. "Wait a minute, why are you in here and not out there?"

"Because."

Lorna waits for her to elaborate, but Nicky doesn't. She can tell Nicky is in one of her moods and Lorna really doesn't want to fight with her right now. With everything that's happening and how desperate she is to ignore it all, Lorna doesn't have it in her to go through the verbal ringer with Nicky.

"What's a matter?" Lorna asks gently.

"Nothing."

When Nicky angrily slams the dough against the floured counter, Lorna looks to Norma and Gina, who are both quiet, keeping their heads down as they hustle around the kitchen. Even if they did know something, their demeanor says their lips are sealed. Lorna notices how Red is already massaging her temples and presses her lips together. She knows better than to ask Red about Nicky, especially with Nicky nearby.

"Nichols…"

"What? I'm working, which you should be doing for the millionth fucking time in the last twenty-four hours. It's the same old story anyway. I'm better off in here, doing what I can to lend a hand. Too many assholes out there."

"Same could be said for back here," Lorna mutters. Nicky hears, shakes her head, but says nothing as she continues to work. Lorna sees an apron, grabs it and holds it out to Nicky. "Here. At least don't get flour all over your dress. It's pretty, expensive-looking."

"Why don't you quit worrying about me and worry about yourself, Morello? I mean, you're pretty fucked with this bracelet and still you find the time to fucking molest Christopher with your eyes."

"Hey!" Red shouts, walking over to them, having had enough. "You two are done! It's one thing to be at each other's throats during prep in the restaurant. It's another for you to bring your drama in here during something like this. Enough. If you can't work together I'll make sure you don't work together anymore."

"Sorry, Red."

"It won't happen again, ma."

Red crosses her arms and looks between the girls, gauging their sincerity. "You know, when my boys fight I make them hug for a whole minute and kiss twice on the cheeks and once on the lips. Once they hit their teens it got weird and they never fought in front of me again."

"Ma, don't tell them that!" one of the brothers shouts from across the kitchen.

"I don't think Nichols would see that as a punishment." Gina laughs.

"Can we please just get back to work? Jesus." Nicky throws Lorna a glance and rips the apron out of her hands, carefully slipping it on over her dress. Lorna beams and Red wears a smile so smug you'd think Nicky were her actual daughter and that's where she inherited it.

"Alright!" Red shouts. "We've made it this far. Let's finish strong!"

"Yeah!" Lorna cheers.

Red gives Lorna a look, hands her a tray and pats the top of her head before ushering her back out to the ballroom.

…

After the fifth text from Larry asking where she is, Piper goes looking for her boyfriend. What she finds instead is her father arguing with a man in a wolf mask. It doesn't look like Bill Chapman berating a low-level drug dealer for offering him a baggie of heroin. Bill yells at him the way he would yell at one of his employees. They're clearly acquainted. This isn't the first time their paths have crossed.

"Piper, there you are!" Larry shouts. "I've been looking everywhere!"

Before Piper can assure him that she's been just as vigilant in her search for him, a symphony of cell phones go off. It's like a chain reaction, a reminder that they haven't actually gone back in time. Everyone under twenty pulls out their phones and accesses what is probably breaking news from Gossip Girl. Piper feels a flare of hope. Maybe it's an update on the bracelet.

"Hey, sorry, Larry. You know how these things get. I got swept up in something…"

It feels like every other time—sliding her thumb across the notification on the screen of her phone and watching the Gossip Girl app open. But then everything is different. Everything is terribly, terribly different and just plain terrible. Piper has never been involved in a wild animal attack, but she can't imagine it feeling any worse than this surprise mauling.

On the front page of Gossip Girl is a stunningly clear photo of Piper and Alex locked in a hot kiss, lips parted, tongue exposed, and hands all over each other.

There it is for the whole world to see. Alex is masked, but Piper isn't. Gossip Girl was even thoughtful enough to provide individual pictures of both Piper and Alex in their masquerade outfits for comparison. They're high-resolution photos at that. Gossip Girl is a fucking bitch.

At the bottom is this little gem:

_They say a picture is worth a thousand words and a thousand more questions. Didn't know the "P" stood for pussy. Did our Queen P kiss a girl and like it? What did I tell you earlier? Appearances may be deceiving, but mostly, we do believe what we see. _

_Photo courtesy of one helpful little insider. Maybe you aren't so irrelevant after all. Have any nickname you like. You've more than earned it._

"What the hell, Piper?"

She hears the anger in Larry's voice disrupted by a slight tremor that says all of his worst nightmares just came true in a matter of seconds and one Gossip Girl post. Piper thinks to reach out to him, but he's pulling away from her before she can even think to lift a hand.

"Larry, it's not…"

"No. _No_."

Larry takes off like a rocket, pushing his way through the crowd that's somehow formed around them. As Larry disappears, Piper is left with dozens of eyes locked on her. Most of them are in a stunned silence. As the seconds tick on, the whispers begin and pick up at an alarming pace and volume. Piper has always denied that she has a temper. Maybe because she gets too angry, lets the rage consume and blind her, lead her actions. Here and now is no different.

"Chapman!" Morello shouts, cutting through the crowd to reach her. "Look! I got it!" She holds up the stunning diamond bracelet. "So my sister's been sleeping with this pervy cop and when he was in the bathroom she went through the pockets of his sweatpants for his phone to, y'know, creep on his texts, see what other girls he's sextin', look for blackmail, the usual stuff, and the bracelet was in his pocket! Can you believe it?"

Piper remains perfectly still, muscles tense, barely breathing. She looks from Lorna to the bracelet and finally to her phone clenched in her shaking fist.

"Do you even realize what you fucking did?" Piper seethes. It radiates off of her in invisible waves that crash into Morello, whose smile slowly fades.

"Hon, I don't know what you're—"

"Don't!" Piper shouts. "So you reach out to Gossip Girl for help finding the bracelet and seconds after this stupid fucking picture hits the site, you magically have the bracelet again? You want me to believe it's a coincidence?"

"Yeah, because it is," Morello insists. "Chapman, I'm tellin' the truth."

Piper shakes her finger right in her face and Morello quickly goes on the defensive.

"People think I'm so fucking naive? Well, I'm not!" Piper laughs, crazed. "And you have the audacity to feed me some bullshit story about your sister? I should have known better."

"Should'a known better?" Morello repeats, growing angry herself. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just give me the bracelet and get back to work." If she weren't so goddamn angry, Piper would probably hear her mother in what she just said and cringe, but can't care to self-critique at the moment.

"What? You're ordering me around like the help now?"

"Isn't that what you are? Why else would you be here?"

Morello's jaw clenches and her hands coil into fists, but the way her eyes glaze over gives her away.

"I'm sorry you're pissed about whatever crawled up your ass, but I'm not gonna apologize for something I didn't do." Morello holds out the bracelet and Piper snaps it away. "Fuck you, Chapman."

"Thank you!" Piper shouts after Morello who turns away, proudly displaying her middle finger. "I'll just return the bracelet you _shoplifted_, you know, saving you from a criminal record and your family getting sued for more than you're worth!"

"Hey, what's going on?" Nicky asks, pushing her mask up to the top of her head. Nicky's expression softens when she sees Morello close to tears. "Lorna, what's wrong?" Nicky reaches out to her, but the dark-haired girl just shoves off. A sob slips from her red lips as Morello breaks out into a run, heading to the staff entrance to the kitchen. Nicky stares after her, feels out the impulse to chase her and decides to narrow her eyes at Piper. "What the fuck happened?"

"She's a thief and a liar." Piper shoves her phone at Nicky. "Did you see this? Don't tell me it's a coincidence that the bracelet turns up just as this shows up on the site!"

Nicky takes the phone and slides her finger down the screen. "You think Lorna sold you out?"

"What nickname do you think she'll choose instead of Jersey Shhh-_whore_? Brooklyn Backstabber works."

Piper searches the crowd for a different waiter, one dishing out flutes of champagne. As her temper tampers, she notices Nicky's swells.

"Come on, Nicky. I know you're in love with her, Googled New York criminal penalties for her, but you can't let that—"

"God, just stop, Chapman!" Nicky shouts. She shifts from foot to foot, eye twitching. "Contrary to what Gossip Girl suggests, not everything is about you! I would probably sell you out before Lorna Morello ever would."

"Did you miss the part where she shoplifted a bracelet worth more than a thousand dollars and harassed Maritza over it? She would have done anything to get it back."

"Because you were upset! Her brothers would probably respect her more for joining their delinquent club! Before finding out about the price point, of course. Mostly, Lorna was upset something she did was messing up _your_ life so she was determined to make it up to _you_."

"But what Gossip Girl wrote—"

"Fuck Gossip Girl!" Nicky bounces on her feet, clearly riled. "Settle in for a little story time, Chapman. Once upon a time, Red's husband owed some bigwig some cash so he sent his thug to the bakery after hours. The asshole held Lorna at knifepoint, demanding to know where Dmitri keeps his money, which we all know is behind the portrait of the dogs playing poker—that's where I got the idea. Did Lorna squeal to save her ass from, you know, death? No. She is a lot of things. _Loyal_ is definitely one."

Piper is too stunned to response. In all the years they've known each other, she doesn't think she's ever seen Nicky so mad, not all the times that led to Nicky with a detention slip in hand, not even when her mother failed to show up to a school function, leaving Nicky alone, surrounded by all the other girls and their families.

Nicky saves Piper the trouble of trying to reply and walks away, leaving Piper at the center of the ballroom, utterly alone.

…

Larry won't answer her phone calls, a first in their relationship.

"Piper!"

Piper shutters at that low, smoky voice, but not for the typical reasons. Not like she's a character in a cheesy romance novel, pulled in by Alex Vause's magnetic field of hotness. Piper shutters when realizing how badly she wants to give in to Alex, knowing it will momentarily feel better, but actually make things worse. Alex walks over to her with such urgency in her long strides and Piper frantically stumbles away.

"Stay away from me, Alex."

Alex's confusion shows even with her mask. Piper feels it and what a dangerous feeling it is.

"Piper…"

"No, don't." Piper moves slowly, uncoordinated, trying to put even more space between them. "We can't be seen together right now. It'll just make things worse."

Alex actually laughs at that, but Piper remains on edge, looking everywhere except at the dark-haired drug dealer in front of her. "Do you realize how you sound right now?"

"Do you realize my reputation is ruined?" Piper asks. The tremble of panic in her voice highlights the severity of the situation, but Alex remains on the verge of laughing. "School on Monday is going to be hell. Not to mention when my parents see or hear about this. What people will think and say about us then…"

"Just tell them it's Photoshopped," Alex says calmly. "It isn't real."

"Is it not?" Piper shoots back. "What we have, whatever the fuck this is, is it even real? What are we doing, Alex? My boyfriend isn't answering my calls. He wouldn't even look at me after seeing that picture! And _you_! You have a girlfriend!"

"I'd leave her for you if you told me to."

The hairs on the back of Piper's neck stand at the seriousness in Alex's low voice combined with the look in her eyes like everything, even this is a game of Chicken and Alex Vause takes first prize every time. Piper shakes her head and moves even further away.

"Fuck you, Alex. Don't pull your smooth Alex Vause shit on me right now. This isn't the time."

"I'm serious. Dead serious. You're the one who freaks out at the idea of us being more, putting a name on it. You're the one who cares oh so fucking much about what everyone else thinks. Piper Chapman, Bill Chapman's little girl? _Gay_? Oh no, now we can't invite them to the gala because she might get gay germs all over everything!"

"You don't understand," Piper says, gritting her teeth.

"No, I don't," Alex agrees. "I don't understand and if understanding means being the asshole who verbally destroys someone as sweet as Lorna in front of all the other rich kids, treats her like _the help_ then I don't want to understand."

"I fucked up, I know, but so did she."

"You fuck up all the time," Alex laughs, "but I still like you. I still want to see you every day and hear the pretentious things you have to say. You don't know how infuriating that is."

Alex steps closer, but Piper steps away yet again. She refuses to meet her eyes.

"I think we should give each other some space, at least till all of this becomes old news," Piper says, trying so hard to stay strong. "I need to do damage control, get my life together, and I can't do that when all you do is make me want to forget it all."

"Piper…"

"No, stay away from me, Alex. I mean it."

"Okay. Good luck with Larry."

"Thank you."

Piper regrets everything she just said, feels the urge to run after Alex, to take it all back, to kiss her and promise it won't be the last. Before she can even glance over her shoulder at Alex's retreating figure, Piper's phone buzzes in her hand and it brings her back to where her priorities should be, back to reality.

Piper glances down and, of course, it's another message from Gossip Girl:

_Oh yes! It is by far my favorite part of the ball! When the masks come off and the truth comes out for all to see._

Contrary to what Gossip Girl says, Piper knows it isn't time to shed a mask, but revive an old one. Piper Chapman, the Glorified Good Girl, need to make a comeback. If that means no more crazy nights out with Nicky and Alex then so be it.

…

Lorna finds herself sitting on the top steps of the service stairwell behind the kitchen, listening to her sobs bounce off the walks and echo, traveling between floors. Lorna runs through everything she's done in the last twenty-four hours, compiling a lengthy list of evidence justifying Piper's anger and even Nicky's. It was that stupid fucking bracelet's fault!

No.

She shuts her eyes tight and shakes her head hard.

_No_. Lorna's the one to blame and she knows it. She doesn't know why she took the bracelet, but she can't deny loving the weight of it in her pocket, ready to explain that Piper had it in the changing room if someone stopped her on her way out of the boutique. Consequences didn't even cross her mind. They rarely do when she's lost in a moment, lost to her impulses and her unrealistic desires—the necklace, a different life, a boy with a soft sweater and a girlfriend, a certain grumpy schoolgirl with crazy hair.

Speaking of…

Lorna jumps at the sound of the door opening and there's Nicky forcing her way past the door with that lion mask pushed up into that mane. Her fingers twisted around the neck of a champagne bottle. Nicky's determination dims when she sees Lorna and suddenly the girl who's never without a master plan looks like she doesn't know what she's supposed to do here, but would really like to be smoking a cigarette right now. It's silent and when Lorna notices, she realizes her sobs have stopped, that she's ceased breathing altogether.

Nicky sits at Lorna's side and shoves the bottle toward Lorna. "Forget Chapman, alright? She's so wrapped up in her own shit. That wasn't about you."

"Yeah, yeah, it was." Lorna hiccups and Nicky motions to the bottle again, but Lorna shakes her head. "I-I messed up."

"Yeah, you did," Nicky agrees, "but Piper was mad at Gossip Girl, _not you_. She shouldn't've taken it out on you." When it doesn't look like Lorna's going to take the bottle anytime soon, Nicky takes a swig of it herself. "Sure you don't want any? Nice on the host. They sprung for the swanky shit."

"Aren't you gonna ask me if I did it?" Lorna asks. "If I ratted on Piper and Alex…"

Nicky looks right at her, disarming and unwavering. "I already know the answer. Of course you didn't and that's that."

"You know that for a fact, huh?"

"I know _you_," Nicky says quietly. Her voice breaks on that last syllable and she has to turn away. "C'mon, let's leave. Chapman's got the bracelet so that's all settled. This shit was lame from the start. I got a driver waiting downstairs. We can take you home."

"No, no, I gotta get back out there. Red—"

"Red said you could call it a night," Nicky interjects. "The party's winding down anyway. Gina and Tricia and the boys got it covered."

"Then maybe I'm just not ready to go home yet."

"Everything okay with the family?"

"Super!" Lorna answers with a tad too much false reassurance. Nicky just tilts her head, concern deepening. "Franny and the creep cop are fucking _again_."

"Fuck that guy." Nicky narrows her eyes, twisting her fingers tighter around the neck of the bottle. "He try anything with you?"

"You and Franny always think everyone wants to touch me."

"Honestly, Morello, it's hard to believe someone who'd say they didn't want to," Nicky says, and quickly realizes she said too much. "So if your room is occupied, where've you been sleeping at night?"

"Mikey passed out on the couch last night so I took his room. Other nights..."

"Other nights what?"

"Forget it. It ain't important."

"C'mon, now that you said it isn't important you know I'm not going to quit hounding you about it, right?" Nicky nudges her playfully. "So just tell me."

"Some nights after closing I'll sleep on the couch in Red's office."

"Are you serious? What if someone broke in while you were there and no one else was around? You could've gotten hurt or worse."

"But I didn't. I'm fine." Lorna reads Nicky and lays her hand on Nicky's arm. She knows that when it comes to Nicky, physical reassurance works best.

"Why didn't you come over to my place? Lorna, we talked about this. When shit gets too heavy at home, come over."

"That was before everything... And things are so weird with us! One minute it's like nothing changed and the next, we're pickin' fights and I don't know anymore…"

The disquieting silence that follows is something that's become more and more frequent between them. They clearly hate it, hate acknowledging that it's hovering over them and wedged between them. Nicky eventually rounds her arm around Lorna, who in turn leans into her.

"I'd rather you be at my loft and things feel, eh, not quite normal between us than you feeling unsafe anywhere else. And maybe if we do get over ourselves and hang out more, like we use to, things will start to feel less weird, yeah?"

Lorna nods. "Yeah."

"Good. Now, c'mon," Nicky says. "This place makes my skin crawl and this mask makes my nose itch like fuck."

Lorna reaches for the lion mask nestled into Nicky's hair atop her head and drags it down back into place over Nicky's face.

"It's perfect on you." Lorna laughs. "I told Chapman, I said this mask would be _perfect_ on you when we were in that dress shop and look! It makes your hair look two times as big, which I know you love."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Nicky tucks strands of Lorna's dark hair behind her ear and climbs to her feet. " You need to grab anything from your house first? God knows all of your shit is still all over my place."

"Nope. You know, I left my Alg book at yours, but I've felt so weird about going over or even texting you about it so I've been going in early and staying late after school to use the copy in the library."

"Are you serious? Maniac. You could have just texted me."

"What if you were busy with someone or something? I didn't want to bug you."

"Next time bug me," Nicky says, nearly pressing their foreheads together. "I'm going to be actually upset if you don't bug me next time, alright? Alright. Now let's go home, kid."

"Home," Lorna says softly beneath her breath. She thinks it, doesn't even realize she said it aloud until Nicky looks over at her with one of those lopsided grins that make Lorna feel like she's already there.

…

Piper sits on the steps of the ballroom that's starting to clear out. Only people still in conversation, still on the dance floor or staggering drunk remain. All the masks have come off and hers sits in her lap. People keep walking by and giggling, but Piper pays them no attention, too focused on how lonely she feels right now.

All of her friends are nowhere in sight. Larry wants nothing to do with her and she pushed Alex away. It's a loneliness she brought upon herself, overlaid with a thick layer of anger. Piper feels so much anger toward Gossip Girl, toward everyone and everything, especially herself.

"Come to the masquerade ball you said. It'll be fun you said…"

Cal wears a tiny smile as he walks over to his sister. His appearance alone makes Piper feel a bit better if only for a second. Cal actually does have a sword hanging off his belt and a V for Vendetta mask with the mustache painted on and all. Cal pushes his mask up as he sits beside Piper on the far end of the staircase.

"You okay?" Cal asks.

"I'm starting to think you had the right idea, wanting to abandon all of this and go live in a trailer in the woods, foraging for food and being one with nature."

"You'd ditch it to go get burgers and wine within the first hour."

"Probably."

Piper meets her brother's eyes. "You saw the pictures?"

"Yup."

"Do you think mom and dad saw the pictures?"

"Nah, but it's only a matter of time before one of their snooty friends mentions it. Just tell them it's some jealous girl who has it out for you and knows a person who knows a person who's fantastic at photo manipulation. They'll take your word over anyone else's. You might not be Danny the Golden Son, but you aren't, well, me."

"I messed up _so_ bad, Cal. Then it all just snowballed out of control and I kept messing up. I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Piper laughs miserably. "You have way more faith in me than I have in myself."

"Well, you didn't give up on me when I was kidnapped and ransomed by drug dealers. The Piper Chapman Apology tour should be cake compared to that."

"You don't think I'm disgusting and unworthy of the Chapman name?"

"Did you forget who you're taking to?"

Piper hugs her brother's arm and rests her head on his shoulder. "Let's go get gelato."

"Music to my ears, sis."

…

Alex looks over the emptying ballroom below and even though she's dressed appropriately, wearing a gown and a mask, she still feels so disconnected from it all. She feels like an imposter, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Unlike Lorna who agonizes over the disparity, Alex finds it exhilarating. She never strives to fit in, but gets off on moving around them unnoticed, like a pawn that ends up winning the entire game.

"I walked by a group of teenage girls crowded around a cell phone, looking at a picture of you playing with your new toy."

The Man in the Wolf Mask twirls his cane as he walks up beside Alex.

"The Rockabilly Babe kissing the Queen P, actually," Alex says sourly. She'd probably be amused if not for the fight she just had with Piper. "Their words, not mine."

"If I investigate, am I going to find more of the so-called Rockabilly Babe?"

"It's a stupid teenage gossip blog. Calm down, Kubra."

"It's a liability. Did you know she was Chapman's daughter?"

"I assumed. How many Upper East Side girls have the last name Chapman? I met her before he shook your hand on the newest investment."

"Like fate dropped her in your lap. If only we could all be that lucky. Did she see me talking to her father?"

"I wasn't stalking her all night, but if she did she won't talk."

"She's beautiful. You've always had a taste for corrupting the young, innocent ones, haven't you? Make sure she doesn't talk. More importantly, make sure she doesn't stick her nose where it doesn't belong. The last thing we need is her talking daddy into growing a conscience."

Alex swallows hard, happy to be wearing the mask. She doesn't know how she's supposed to follow these orders, especially with the way Piper practically tossed her aside and Alex let it happen. Regardless of the current circumstances, Alex angles toward her boss and mentor, giving him a cool, sly smile.

"Do I ever disappoint?" Alex asks.

"That's why you're my favorite, Vause."

...

_It's funny how transparency can thrive in a room full of masks. It's terrifying how one night, one masquerade ball and one slipup caught on camera can change the game entirely. _

_In other news…_

_At the top of our Best Dressed List, the dark horse, not the Newbie Military B P or the staggering Queen P, but the wildcard who puts the P in surprise. I see you coming at us, Polly Harper. Are you ready for the perfect storm? Hate to break it to you, insiders, but it's already here. _

_Xoxo _

_Gossip Girl_

* * *

**AN**: Are you okay? I hope you took breaks while reading this. I am clearly a creature of excess. Thank you so much for your interest and your patience! I love this 'verse, but, honestly, this is getting exhausting to write. At the same time I realize this would be a terrible place to stop the story. Leave me a bit of inspiration if you please.

**Fun Fact**: this thing is 55 pages at font size 12. I do it all for you.


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